Ambitious
by ninashtia
Summary: [Sequel to Cunning] The war is over and Elizabeth Montieth returns to England, only to find that many things have changes, and much remains the same. When life throws her a shiny new job, catty co-workers, and three gorgeous professional Quidditch players as flatmates, how is a witch going to prove she is a grown up adult? [complete/editing]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

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"All courses of action are risky, so prudence is not in avoiding danger (it's impossible), but calculating risk and acting decisively. Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth. Develop the strength to do bold things, not the strength to suffer."

-Niccolo Machiavelli

 **Chapter 1 – Judged**

I'm a little older now, and I guess I would like to say, a little more learned in the ways of the world; a little wiser and perhaps a tad more mature. But if I were, would I really be reading a gossip column while waiting for my father to stand trial for murder and miscellaneous?

Don't think so.

April's glaring eye caught mine. She yanked the magazine from my hands and crumpled it before throwing it on my lap. Instead, it landed next to me shoe. "Enough," she said, her lips barely breaking open. I rolled my eyes and picked the crumbled parchment down. The words "Oliver Wood's sizzling scandalous _divorce_ " stood out like the Harry Potter kid next to the new Minister of Magic. I sighed, and tucked the magazine beneath my arse and waited.

England had apparently changed since I'd left. I won't lie; it stung to know that the world I once called home had gone on with me gone. I always thought of myself as rather important.

Next to me, Adrian yawned and stretched his legs. I snickered the moment he hit his toe against the metal bar of the seat in front of him. A witch with a lopsided purple hat turned around and glared at him, but he seemed too concerned coddling his foot to care.

A noise on the far end of the room caught my attention. I hadn't realised how bubbly and chatty the room was until it grew silent enough you could hear a pin drop. I held my breath and watched as the two large marble doors opened up, creaking as if they were lacking oil. Half the room seemed to brace itself, waiting for the fateful moment in which the dementor's cold would freeze their lungs; and as soon as they realised that dementors were no longer allowed they all exhaled like an orchestra.

I didn't.

My eyes were focused on the haggard and old looking man who was walking with difficulty. Two wizards walked beside him, one holding the prisoner's arm. His long coal black hair, once smooth as silk, hung unclean and matted obstructing his face. Inside me, my heart was beating loud enough to make me deaf. I watched drenched in agony as my father took a seat in the lone chair in the middle of the rounded room. My eyes closed with the finality of the chains that had wrapped around his wrists.

Beside me, Adrian grabbed my hand and pulled it on his lap. I felt, rather than saw, April stiffen. For a moment, no one spoke.

"This court now calls upon Antonious Acacius Montieth," the speaker's voice, a scrubby old man whose name was XXX, spoke; his voice, augmented magically, jumped off of the walls, starling me into opening my eyes. "For trial under the new restored order, under charges of allying with the group called the Death Eaters; of wishing ill to parts of the wizarding and muggle society, and of premeditated murder and torture."

My eyes were fixed on my father whose head was bowed down; vile rose up my throat. I dug my nails into Adrian's calloused hand and he squealed. "Antonious Acacius Montieth, do you consent to tell the truth and nothing but the truth," whispers aroused in the rows nearby me. I had heard them before; I had been sitting at this same place for an entire day, waiting for the moment my father would be judged for his crimes. Everyone around me did not hold the slightest suspicion of innocence: all the people brought forward were found guilty, and condemned. And all had agreed to one last, if not first, act of honesty: they confessed, praying, for mercy.

"I will tell the truth," my father said after a moment's silence, his eyes darting wildly over the stands. The audience reeled in distrust, but kept quiet.

The prosecution gave him no time to prepare. "Antonious Acacius Montieth," the wizard proceeded, his voice booming in the tight room, suffocating. "Do you declare yourself guilty or innocent of being in alliance with Lord Voldemort-" the audience shivered, -"and his band of misfits, the Death Eaters?"

"Guilty."

"Did you engage in murder, torture and other illegal activities which resulted in the death, traumatization or otherwise damaged the livelihood of wizards, witches, muggles and other magical and non-magical living beings and creatures?"

"Yes."

"Do you agree with the extremist belief that only pureblood wizards and witches are fit to live; that muggles, squibs and muggle-borns are inferior and therefore must be killed or slaved?"

"I did."

Well, I could've choked in my spit and by the shouts of 'liar', so did most of the people. "Did you or did you not commit murder against these people whom you thought worthless, and those who sought to defend them?"

"I did but I-"

"Did you or did you not torture those same people whom you thought worthless, and those who sought to defend them?"

"I did, but I-"

"Did you or did you not support a regime that would have enslaved and massacred part of the wizarding and magical world?"

"But I repent!" my father's shout cut through the air like a dry slap. The prosecutor looked stupefied and at a loss for how to proceed. "I do repent my past actions and beliefs."

An elderly witch leaned forward, her light blue bonnet almost falling off of her head. "You repent, Mr. Montieth?" she asked, her voice as sweet as cotton candy. I sneered her way, knowing full well she couldn't see me. The room had quieted down.

"I do, I do repent," and then the shouting started.

"Liar!"

"Murderer!"

"Death Eater!"

"Silence!" the prosecutor stood up and was looking around at all of us in the audience. I couldn't see him this far off, but the extent of his annoyance could be felt. "Let the man speak," with a final huff, he took his seat again and resumed staring at my father.

"I regret what it has done to my family," my father said, speaking like an old man. When had he aged so much? The last time I had laid eyes on him had been on that cursed ball shortly before I run away. He hadn't looked as emaciated as he did now, a mere shell of a man. "My wife… my children… it has been my entire fault."

The prosecutor leaned in, narrowing his eyes. "And what about other people's wives and children? Do you regret the pain and suffering your actions have caused them?"

My father looked up and held the wizard's gaze. "No, I cannot. I can only find enough humanity in me to regret what has befallen my own family." The entire audience gasped. Witches and wizards around me shook their heads in either disapproval or disgust. Beside me, Adrian grabbed a hold of my forearm and squeezed.

"That he found some humanity in him is quite the achievement," I whispered, leaning closer to him so April wouldn't hear me.

"I do not ask to be spared," my father continued, oblivious to the turmoil of repugnance that his last well-chosen words had created. "I only ask that my remaining children be granted peace."

"We have no reason to suspect any of your _remaining_ children to have participated or allied themselves with the Death Eaters. We have thoroughly investigated the manner," the prosecutor continued, avoiding my father's eyes and shuffling a large pile of parchment. "You are aware that your son Nicholas perished during the Hogwarts Battle?"

My father bowed his head. "I saw his body amongst the dead."  
"And that your sister, Adelaine Oakley and her husband Lawrence Oakley were found murdered by Death Eaters last December?"

"Yes."

"Then pray tell, why would you think what is left of your family would have no peace?" my father kept his head bowed, but did not speak. "Your best hope is that they may find their own peace, knowing what horrors two members of their own blood committed."

"You don't understand," my father said. I saw his wrist shake and make the chains rattle. "My daughter, my beautiful daughter... All I wanted was for them to be happy."

The prosecutor snorted. "And a jolly good job you did with that. Be glad three of your kids didn't turn out like you." I sent another glare in the prosecutor's direction. A tear fell from an eyelash and into my eye. I brushed it off with the back of my hand, and avoided Adrian's gaze.

"With no further ado," the prosecutor continued in an almost bored tone. "Considering the accused's own admission of guilt to all of his charges, this jury has no choice but to sentence Antonious Montieth to life in Azkaban, with no chance of parole. Any last words?"

I fixed my eyes on my father; my heart was beating fast enough to break my ribs. "May I see them?"

"Who?"

"My daughter, my sons, my grandchild…"

"Visitations are allowed in Azkaban only. Take him away."

I watched as my father's eyes bulged out of his drained skull; they roamed over the audience desperately as two buff wizards walked towards him. "No, they won't! Please! Elizabeth! Armand! William!" I closed my eyes, willing myself not cry over a man who never had the consciousness to know how much he had hurt his family when it mattered. I opened them only when I heard the main door close, and was sure I wouldn't see him again.

"Hurry up, let's go," April's voice nagged not a second later. She grabbed a hold of my right elbow and pulled upwards. I groaned, refusing to move but she only yanked that much harder. "Elizabeth don't be a child, we need to leave before the next trial begins." With a sigh, I yanked my elbow out of her grip, grabbed my handbag and copy of Witch Weekly, and straightened up. The suffocating mood that had gripped the room had been replaced by a much livelier one as people turned to their neighbors to chat and cheer the imprisonment of one more Death Eater.

I followed my sister in law, who seemed to be all but supporting William, as we snaked through the rows and rows of wizards and witches who had showed up for the day's entertainment. After the Battle of Hogwarts, all of the Death Eaters and other suspected people had been rounded up as evidence upon evidence of their evil doings was collected through various sources. Trials began within three weeks of the battle, and had been relentless ever since.

It had been a while.

No one spoke as we made our way up the elevators and towards the atrium; we had spent enough time talking earlier, speculating, and no one was surprised. April kept whispering things in William's ear to which he responded with a sob. I caught Armand rolling his eyes at our eldest brother's sensitivity, but I couldn't agree with him. After all, it wasn't every day your father was convicted of murder; it also wasn't a normal day when he told an audience full of strangers that he regretted all the pain he caused his family. I think that was the closest he ever got to saying he loved us.

"I suppose you are headed towards your old flat?" April said, catching me off guard. I looked over my shoulder to where Adrian was standing and nodded. "Are you certain you don't want to stay with us for a little while?"

I shook my head. "No offense, April but I think we've spend enough time together lately. I really want my own bed." I felt Adrian squirm behind me, but decided not to pay the brat any more attention.

April and William shared a look, but then she shrugged. "Alright then. You can come visit us for lunch whenever," she said and with a final look, they walked towards the fireplaces and disappeared. That left Armand, Adrian and me.

"I heard you took a flatmate, though?" Armand asked, looking pointedly at Adrian who shrugged.

"London is expensive, mate. I needed help paying the bills. He's a nice kid though, Corey," he hurried to add seeing Armand's eyebrows narrowing. "A bit on the young side, if you catch my meaning."  
Armand nodded and began walking towards the fireplaces. In the two sends we had dwindled talking, a line up had formed. "Any of you know where Francis or Gwendolyn is?"

"Gwen had training today and couldn't make it. Francis was probably not interested." He had written to me, actually, to say he thought it better not to attend; something about being unable to hold his tongue or wand if he saw my father, his uncle again. I know Francis blamed him for his parents' death, and I secretly didn't blame him.

We waited in silence as the line ahead of us slowly receded. When it was Armand's turn, he grabbed some powder and turned around.

"You alright kid?" I shrugged and he sighed. "Well, you better not be a stranger now that you are back in town."

"Perhaps if you weren't a prick I'd spend more time with you," I replied giving him a hug, which he returned.

"I'll have to drop by soon; check out the place my little sister is staying in after all," he said and with one last smile, he stepped into the green fire and disappeared.

It was now our turn. Adrian reached around me and grabbed a large amount of powder. He motioned for me to go first. I stepped into the fire, trying not to giggle as the flamed licked my exposed legs and waited for Adrian to join me. The ministry fireplace was large, but it still felt too close for comfort. "The leaky cauldron!" he shouted, and then we were spinning. And then I fell arse-first unto a cold, dirty stone flood.

"What the hell, Adrian?" I shrieked the second he landed, thankfully, first face. "Why aren't we at the flat?"

He busied with rubbing his elbow and getting up before speaking. "We are experiencing some problems with the floo network. Last time Corey tried it he got stuck for three hours."  
I raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" He flashed me a grin and offered me his elbow, which I took before we exited the pub and walked out into muggle London.

It was one of those few beautiful days in early autumn, and the street was full of people. Our shared flat, which we now shared with one of Adrian's Puddlemere team members, was only a few blocks away from the old pub inside of muggle London. Adrian draped his arm across my shoulder as we walked.

"Now that we are alone, how are you?" he asked.

I pretended to look inside the window of a French bakery to earn some time. How was I? My father had just been given a life sentence (well earned); only a few months ago my entire family had been stripped of three members (even if I never cared much for Nicholas, but I would miss Aunt Adelaine), and I was back in England after being exiled throughout the duration of the war. Not that I had been inactive, far from, but it still felt like there was a hole in history that I had missed. Gwen had fought during the Battle of Hogwarts and probably as part of the underground resistance. I know Adrian fought as well, as did Armand. William was in Luxembourg with me, April, and a bunch of other purebloods that had managed to escape before being conscripted, imperiused, or murdered.

"I could be a whole lot worse, to be honest," I said, staring straight ahead. We had reached the block of our flat and Adrian was already opening the front door. I followed behind him, and stared at the eighteenth-century stairs defiantly. "I will walk up all of you, you little bugger, and you shall not rob me of my breath!" I heard Adrian chuckle, and hit him square on the shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad to hear everything is not taking too much of a toll," Adrian said two floors in, two to go. I already had a stitch on my side and the bloody bastard was a good half a stair ahead of me. "Today being your first day back home after the war and all…"  
"Adrian," I gasped as we turned around into the third floor. One more flight to go! "Whatever you need to tell, spill it now before I recover my ability to breath."  
He chuckled. "You know about Corey right? Nice lad that one-"  
"Adrian."

"-well, there has been a small and insignificant change to our lineup this year."

I rolled my eyes, but he didn't see me as he had already reached the fourth floor. "I honestly don't care about Puddlemere's line up for the season Ad-"

"I wasn't talking about Puddlemere," he was standing so close I almost fell backwards. He grabbed me by the forearm and helped me climb the last three steps. "I was talking about our living arrangements."

I stood still, cradling my stomach and leaning against the wall. I glared at him. "What is it?"

Adrian flashed another smile and walked over to our door which was conveniently close to the staircase. "Well, how do you feel about three blokes for the price of two?"

"Adrian," I said through clenched teeth, peeling myself off of the wall and walking to stand next to him. He had his key in his hand and it was already inside the doorknob. "What are you talking about?"

"Long story really, but Luke's cousin is a fantastic magical contractor –I'm certain you'll love your new room."

"Who's Luke? And what did you do to my room? Adrian!" I tried to grab a hold of his forearm but the door opened before he could twist the knob. There, standing all dressed up, was the one and only Oliver Wood.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Startled

"Wood?" I turned my head slowly to gape at the person I called my best friend. _Wood?_ Merlin, I was going to be joining my dear papa sooner than anticipated.

"Oliver, mate," he ignored me and clapped Wood on the shoulder. "Leaving already? Lisa and I were thinking Chinese."  
Wood raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting from him to me. I saw him shift his weight from the corner of my eye. Perhaps now would be a good time to close my mouth. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

Adrian shrugged and I fumed. I opened my mouth to belittle both of them when Wood interrupted me. "Blimey, Sarah. I thought the git would have better sense than to drop this on you like that."  
I nodded, my mouth still hanging open.

 _Wood?_

Wood rubbed the back of his neck and straightened his dress robes. "Well, I'll leave him to handle the- I'm late. Save me some Chinese!" he pushed Adrian to the side and squeezed past me, the fabric of his robe rubbing against my shoulder. I got a wisp of that scent that only he had for the briefest of seconds, before he disappeared down the stairs. I didn't speak until his footsteps were no longer audible. I could, however, hear the faint sounds of barking.

"Wood? And what's more, his dog?" I repeated, feeling the blood in my jugular burn. Adrian shrugged and walked in. I followed him so I could kill him in a private setting with no witnesses. "You mean to tell me," I began, dropping my handbag on a small side table and knocking over a dead plant. "That my ex-boyfriend Oliver Sodding Wood will be living with us, in my flat?"  
"Our flat," Adrian corrected as he walked towards the kitchen. My eyes bulged. Time to re arrange priorities. "And Daisy's adapted quite well to the place, even if it is downsizing."

"What the bleeding hell did you do to this place?" I screeched, stomping on an old carpet. When we bought this flat it had been nice and quaint, with a small but comfortable kitchen and a decent sized living room – no formal dining room. The wall separating the kitchen and the living room had been torn down, so I could now see the ancient fridge from the door. What was more the antique sofa I had found in a muggle shop had been replaced by a modern mammoth directly in front of a large black box.

"You don't like it?" Adrian said, opening the fridge and taking a jar of pumpkin juice out. "It's called open concept. Makes the room feel bigger, you see?

I glowered. "What in Salazar's name is that ruddy black box?" It crashed with the décor.

He grabbed two glasses from one of the cabinets (which had been replaced by some much nicer ones, I had to admit) and poured the juice. "It's called a telly. You'll come to love it."

I felt like I had taken an extra strength Pepperup potion, smoky ears and all. Adrian, unaware of where my mind was heading, offered me one of the two glasses. I held it limply in my hand. "Why is Wood living with us?"

Adrian walked over the sofa and threw himself on top of it, putting his feet up on the small coffee table. "You mean to tell me that little magazine of yours didn't give you any clues?" he asked and grabbed a large, boxy looking black wand and pressed a button. The black box flashed for a second before images and sounds appeared. It bloody startled me.

I shook my head to focus on the topic at hand and walked over to the sofa. I stood in front of this magic black box and glared at Adrian, arms akimbo. Adrian only rolled his eyes. "You know perfectly well I have been cut off all news for a few months."  
"Didn't use to stop you," Adrian said with a shrug; he pressed another button and the image changed. "Well, he's getting a divorce-"

"So he _was married._ "

He chuckled. "That's usually the prerequisite." I continued glaring. "Get your knickers off of a twist, Lisa. You are only upset I didn't give you a warning."

"You really _are_ a git."  
"And your expression was well worth it," he said, grabbing his drink and toasting me. "Now if you'd do me the favor of moving, I have a soap opera to catch up on. It's called football," I rolled my eyes and walked over to the kitchen. My skin was prickling all over, as if I was having some sort of allergic reaction.

I opened the fridge and looked around. Was there nothing edible in this place? I closed it with a snap and turned towards the cabinets. Empty. Feeling my bad mood go from bad to worse, I settled for a small shot of Icevodka added to my pumpkin juice and some stale biscuits. I was thinking of the best strategy to get the goodies from Adrian when someone screeched behind me.

I jumped and dropped my glass on the floor, the broken glass narrowly missing my open-toe wedges. "You are Elizabeth?" cringing, I turned around.

A blond bloke with doe brown eyes was staring at me, beaming. His lips were twitching from what I guessed was the effort to contain the urge to smile. "And you are Corey."

He squealed again and rushed over to hug me. I kept my hands to my side as the kid invaded my personal space. I looked over his shoulder to glare at Adrian but he wasn't paying attention. "Blimey! Did you hurt yourself?" Corey asked, letting go of me and rushing down to look at my toes. "I'm sorry, that was entirely my fault!"

"Yes, yes it was," I replied, retrieving my wand from my back pocket. "Evanesco," I said and watched as all the mess disappeared. Corey clapped.

"Adrian, I think we've found the cure to all of our household dilemmas!"

Salazar kill me.

It took me three hours to get Corey off of my back. He insisted I tour the entire flat, which Luke's (I still didn't know who _that_ was) cousin had magically transformed from a two-bedroom and one-loo, to _four_ -bedrooms and two-loos. "Because I figured you wouldn't want to share a shower with all three of us. So that one is all yours," at least Corey had common sense. Wood, had left his dog locked up in his room knowing I'll be arriving soon. When Corey let her out, she jumped on me, pulling me to do the floor before attacking my nose. I tried to push her off of me, but although she was significantly older, she was still stronger.

It took both Corey's and Adrian's combined effort to pull her off of me and calm her down. She didn't seem to hear most of their commands; I suggested a stunning spell, but they chose instead to give her a treat. She ended up eating her bone in peace. I made a mental note.

Wood (Oliver?) had what was once my room, making my room accessible through an invisible door hidden in the sadly half-empty bookcase. Corey explained that the charms used to duplicate the rooms while maintaining the non-magical foundations had some fallbacks, like the fact that the wall separating his room form mine was parchment-thin. "But I wouldn't worry if I were you," he said giving me a pat on the back, "Oliver's love life is pathetic. I doubt you'll hear him with some bird."

The kid was lucky to be alive.

"And you'll grow to love the telly," he said when I insisted that thing be removed from my flat. "Adrian's hooked and I've only brought it over two months ago!"

I escaped to my room with the excuse to rearrange the furniture. In reality, I took a long look at the narrow room with only one sodding window (it used to have two) and sighed. I dropped my handy handbag on a creaking old desk and lay down on the double bed, arms and legs spread like an eagle. I could hear Adrian alternating between cheering and swearing, while Corey's high-pitched voice popped in and out. I was told he was in Gwen's year, which meant he had only just graduated and was already signed up to one of Britain's best Quidditch teams. "Best thing since Harry Potter," Adrian said while taking a swing of a butterbeer. "The fact that our previous seeker hopped the twig helped, of course."

I closed my eyes and took in the stale air. Whoever this Luke's cousin bloke was, he hadn't done wonders for the air ventilation system. _Think happy thoughts_ , April would have said.

Happy thoughts my arse, I'm going to be living with Oliver Wood.

I sat straight up. "I'm going to be living with Oliver Wood," I whispered to the empty room, feeling the blood rushing through my veins as the unmistakable feeling of giddiness took over me. "I'm going to be living with Oliver Wood," I repeated, this time loud enough that I had to clap my hands over my mouth to keep me from squealing.

"Blimey, I'm going to be living with Oliver Wood," bloody effing hell.

I sprang up from the bed and tore the blankets out; pushing my shoes off, I jumped back inside and covered myself from head to toe, hiding my face inside my pillow where I proceeded to scream. Once that was out of my system, and I needed some oxygen, I resurfaced to a clearer mind.

Several things were obvious.

Number one, Adrian would have to pay.

Number two, I needed to get the ceiling fixed –there was a crack.

Number three, Oliver Wood, the one bloke for whom I have been pinning these last few years would be sharing a flat with me.

In the room with the parchment-thin walls right next mine.

I inhaled and exhaled, feeling the tension that had accumulated in my muscles leave, only to come back again with a few added cramps. I closed my eyes again, hoping this entire day would wash away and I would wake up in the ministry's international transportation again and then things would be different.

It was dark when I woke up to a rumbling stomach. My hand moved across the bed sheets and pillows, trying to locate something. When I couldn't find anything, I opened my eyes. The full moon was shining through my sole window and my stomach made odd noises. The small clock on my bedside table said it was close to three in the morning. I swung my legs to the side, stretched my arms, and got out. I opened the door and walked out, expecting everyone to be asleep.

Instead, a few candles were floating Hogwarts-like above the countertop, where a lone figure was nursing a mug. Squinting my eyes against the unexpected light, I made my way forwards, not succeeding at avoiding the colossal sofa.

"Are you alright?" I looked up from my swearing and continued with my flow of profanities. Wood chuckled. "It takes some getting used to; I don't know what Adrian was thinking when he bought it."

"Probably trying to make up for personal deficiencies," I muttered before walking back towards the kitchen, avoiding looking straight at him. As I remembered, he never liked sleeping with a bleeding shirt on.

"There is some cereal in one of the bottom drawers," he said after I had searched each and every cabinet in the quest for sustenance. "Unless you want some Chinese leftovers." I shuddered at the thought of that and continued looking for the cereal. I rolled my eyes when I found it.

"Magical choco-charms?" I muttered and place the large box on the counter, now turning towards finding a bowl, spoon and hopefully milk that hadn't reached the expiry date. No luck on that last item. Making a mental note to go grocery shopping (with Adrian's money, of course) I sat down in front of Wood, spoon in hand and children's cereal in a bowl.

"We are out of milk."

"You don't say?" I dug my spoon inside the bowl and began eating. The thing I didn't like about Magical choco-charms was how the stuck to your teeth if you didn't chew fast enough. "What are you doing up? And please, if you are planning on pre-training before training begins today, just save it."

Wo(Oliver)od (talk about confusion) looked sideways and played with his mug. "It helps me sleep. And I haven't pre-trained since... What about you?"

Throw the Quaffle back at me, why don't you? I pointed to my half-empty cereal bowl and then to my stomach. "I was starved. Why couldn't you sleep?"  
"Who are you, the Spanish Inquisition?"

I shrugged, and we both fell silent. I focused on not losing my teeth to the damned cereal (and not losing myself in staring at his exposed collarbone). "Are you happy to be home?"

His question caught me off surprise. Was I happy (and was this home)? I had lost a father and gained two flatmates in one day. I was unemployed. My aunt and uncle were murdered by Death Eaters; I haven't seen my cousins in _years_. Nicholas was dead.

"I feel like I've missed so much," I said, digging my spoon into my bowl and staring at the evil chocolate balls; I wasn't hungry anymore.

"Trust me, you were better off gone," I lifted my eyes, but it didn't seem like he cared to elaborate. Oliver (let's settle for his first name – snogging his pants off while being educated should grant me that right) finished his drink in one long and intoxicating gulp before getting up. "Better get some sleep before practice," he walked past me without another word. I looked down at my bowl and decided to trash it. I'd buy real food in the morning.

By seven in the morning, however, I was absolutely hooked. This telly thing was simply marvellous! It turns out that falling asleep at seven in the evening lends itself to one whole night of insomnia. That and the discovery of this American show made my night.

"What the bleeding hell are you doing up so early?" Adrian said with a yawn, standing from the hallway and still brushing his teeth. I turned my head, eyes giddy and mouth full of Magical choco-charms. "You were right; this black box really is brilliant." Adrian peeked around me and rolled his eyes, before returning to the loo.

I had Corey sitting next to me in less than a minute. "Once you get over the horrific American accents this is quite the show," he grabbed a handful of choco-charms and chewed on them loudly. "Is this season two?"  
I shrugged. "I don't know; it's hard to keep up. All I know is that this Ross bloke just cheated on his girlfriend, and she's bloody pissed."

Corey nodded. "They were technically on a break," I rolled my eyes and threw him a choco-ball, which stuck to his hair.

Blokes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Awakened

The knock on the door woke me up. I groaned and rolled over, getting leftover spit on my hair. I closed my eyes tight and hoped it was simply the muggle mailman and I would be free to go back to sleep. Daisy woke up and began barking.

Knock-knock-knock. Woof-woof-woof.

I guess not. With a heave, I pushed myself off on to my knees, which almost buckled, and swung my legs to the right –and hit the coffee table. "Bleeding bugger," I muttered and checked my left toe for any lasting damage.

Kno-knock-knock. Woof-woof-woof.

"I'm coming, Merlin," I muttered, combing my hair with my fingers and trying to flatten my wrinkled shirt. Knowing anyone in my family would have a heart attack if they saw me (and half hoping it _was_ a family member). Daisy's wagging tail almost tripped me.

"Don't you look cheery," I saw a blob of auburn hair squirm past me but before I could get a word out, I was staring at an empty hallway. I turned around in time to catch Willow opening all of the blinds with a flick of her wand. The door slammed as I covered my eyes with my fists. "Don't be melodramatic. It's well past noon, Elizabeth," she patted Daisy's head, after which the dog went back to sleeping on a rug. Daisy and I had really bonded over our combined love of long naps.

I glared at her from a crack between my fingers, and chose to ignore her jab. Instead, I slumped back on the sofa and watched as the too-thin woman scouted the flat with a constipated look and a wrinkled nose. "Why you chose to live with blokes who play Quidditch is beyond me," she said wrinkling her nose at an expired milk carton she had dug from the depths of hell-the fridge.

"If you are here to criticize, you can leave," I replied, reaching forward to grab the remote control (Corey taught me what it was called) and turned the telly on. I ignored Willow's comments as she continued her investigation; but the clicking of her heels was driving me mental. It reminded me that I hadn't left the flat in three solid days.

"Is this what you call food?" I turned around. Willow was pinching the brink of her nose and holding last night's Chinese leftovers. I shrugged. I do live with three professional Quidditch players- they have the appetite of an entire herd of hippogriffs and the cooking skill of one. Willow took two long strides opened the cupboard where the garbage bin was, and threw what was supposed to be my lunch out. I crossed my arms around my chest.

"I do hope you have something edible in your purse," I said stifling a yawn and running another hand through my hair and getting it tangled there.

I heard Willow's tick-tock pumps walking across the hardwood floor rather than see her. "This is like the day after the Yule Ball all over again, Eliza," she said and pried my hands off of my tangled mess not too kindly. "You have got to pull yourself together," she huffed and began untangling some of my hair without much success. "Accio hairbrush," I heard the swish of the flying hairbrush before it hit my head and rebounded on Wilow's hands. She ignored my glare and told me to sit on the side, so she could work on my mess.

"When did you last bathe?" she asked after a moment of silence and much pain; I shrugged and she huffed. I gritted my teeth throughout the rest of her monologue. "One would think you would have gotten over this already," she said pulling on a particularly painful spot. "You are supposed to be an adult for Salazar's sake!" she continued, ignoring my teeth gritting hard enough I tasted dust. "What were you expecting? "

"I don't know," I said, pulling my hair out of her grip. Willow stared at me the moment I stood up; she was waving the brush like a wand. "Can't a girl get a little peace? I've only been back for three sodding days!" I pushed my hand in her face, my eyes widening. "Three."

Willow arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Actually, it's been almost two weeks."

I stared at her, opening my mouth and closing it. Then I laughed and walked over the other sofa and slumped on it. I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. "Please, I'm quite certain I would have noticed fourteen days going by…" without missing a beat, Willow stood up and walked towards the kitchen. I turned to my side to get a view of what she was doing, but I couldn't quite see. Ten seconds later, she threw a large piece of parchment in my face.

"Check the date."

Bloody effing hell. "You are just pulling my leg"

She arched that annoying eyebrow again. "Stop pretending."

With a huff, I threw the damning evidence behind me and proceeded to sulk. Willow stared at me with owl-like eyes that frankly annoyed the living daylights out of me. "What do you want me say?" I spat after a few tense moments.

"I want you to shower, put _clean_ clothes on and get over yourself. You are acting like a child."

"Well excuse me for wanting me act my age for a bloody second!" I screamed and threw a nearby pillow at her which landed on the floor, just before hitting her toes. "In case you haven't noticed, _princess_ , I've been cooped up in the middle of nowhere looking after war refugees. What's wrong with needing some peace and quiet?"

Willow seemed quite unfazed. It bothered me. "We both know you are hiding, Elizabeth, not relaxing. And if you throw another pillow at me, so help me Salazar, I will cut off all your hair," I stopped mid-throw and put the pillow down. I glared at her while I cradled a tangled strand of coal black hair. The witch knew how to jinx where it hurt. Willow sighed and stood up, "I know it's hard, coming back; everything's so _different_." She walked towards me and perched on the edge of the sofa. "I've been in your shoes, Lisa. My dad is also in Azkaban and Marcus' dead. But you have got to get your act together."

Ignoring her, I pulled my legs up and buried my head on my knees. I felt waves of childish hatred cascading over me; there was something in me that wanted to strangle the petite woman beside me who made so much sense. "You had something to come back to," I muttered through gritted teeth, never admitting that I was holding a sob deep down my throat. She didn't answer and for a moment I thought she hadn't heard me. Then she snorted.

"And you don't?"

My head sprung up. "What is left here for me?" I said with a sneer. "You have your _husband_ , you precious _son_ -"

"And you have your _friends_ , your _brothers_ , and your _cousins_. Or have you forgotten about them?" I buried my face again to hide my shame. I hadn't forgotten, but she also hadn't been present for her father's trial; she didn't see the look of despair and the hint of madness buried deep within his soul. She didn't know what it was to have a parent repent, state to the world that he loved you when he never said it in private. She-

Willow yanked on my arm and I fell down to the floor, scraping the back of my leg with the coffee table. "Stop being so selfish, Lisa. Everyone's been worried sick about you. The least you can do is return to the land of the living."

I threw her hand back at her and sprung up to my feet. Without tearing my eyes from hers, I lifted my arm and pointed to the door. "Out," she didn't even twitch. "Out!" I screamed and kicked the floor for good measure. Willow stared at me for a second longer before getting up with all the speed of a cleansweep 260. I heard her walk across the living room and close the door behind her. Then I collapsed to the floor, too consumed with sobbing to care.

Daisy licked my leg, and I wrapped my arms around her furry neck.

oOo

"Oi, time to wake up sunshine," I cracked an eye open and jumped back in pure terror. Adrian's pearly whites were close enough to my face they looked like troll fangs. Do trolls _have_ fangs…? "That's a good lass," his voice was patronizing as he grabbed me by my armpits and rearranged my body so I was in sitting position, glaring. He chuckled and put a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I jumped at the brief contact. "We can do this the easy way or the perverted. It's really up to you, Lizzie."

I opened my mouth but was interrupted. "Time is of the essence! Just hoist her over your shoulders and throw her in the tub!" I recognized Corey's voice coming from where I gathered the kitchen was. Did I hit my head against something?

Adrian gave me a very Slytherin grin before reaching forward. I screeched and tried to jump back – which meant I fell arse first on the hard wooden floor. "Bloody hell," I cradled a hurt wrist for a grand total of ten seconds before the demon I considered my best friend was at my side again. Without a single care for the fact that I had probably sprained my wrist and it would never heal, he put his arm around my waist and lifted me up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Adrian put me down!"  
"With pleasure love," he said and continued walking, thankfully not missing a single step due to my hitting and kicking of his back and chest. "But Corey, nice chap that he is, prepared a lovely bath for you and you are going to take it."

I groaned and hit my head on the crook between his shoulder blades, feeling all my blood flooding down to my brain. Perhaps I could drown it, have an aneurysm, and spare myself all of the embarrassment. I heard him open the door to the loo and the smell of lavender soap filled my nose trills. I lifted my head up to sniff it better and it was just starting to relax me when Adrian dropped me on top of the toilet without much ceremony. He threw a fluffy white towel at me, which I caught, and winked. "You have about an hour. I hope that's enough time," he said with the smile that had captured more than one witch at Hogwarts but had always made me want to punch him straight on the teeth, and left.

I stared at the towel, and then my eyes moved around the room. Instead of the muggle fixtures, someone had arranged for floating candles. I peered into the 18th-century tub which Corey had filled to the brim with hot water and lavender-scented soap. I watched for a moment as the bubbles rose up into the air and formed different shapes. A smile grew on my face, and I hanged the towel and removed my clothing.

The water sizzled when I put a single toe in it. I removed it at once. Bleeding kid heated up the water to lobster-cooking temperature. I took in a deep breath, almost choked with a flyaway bubble, and thrust my foot in. I closed my eyes and waited for my skin to get used to the heat. When that foot was nice and accustomed, I put the other one in. I repeated this process until all of my body was submerged. The effect was magical. My cramped muscles, from lack of use most likely, were exhaling with pleasure. My hair surrounded my shoulders mermaid-like. I closed my eyes and simply allowed myself to exist.

Being this deep in hot water was doing wonders for my mind too. Suddenly, everything seemed lighter, more bearable. I could get up in the morning and hunt for a job. I didn't need to spend my days like a ghoul haunting the flat with no purpose other than to sleep my time away and eat greasy leftovers. There was no need to escape the humiliation, the loneliness, the pain – there was-

"Oi, 'lizabeth," my body slipped with a jump, submerging my entire head. I gasped and my mouth was filled with bubbles, soap, and water. And so were my eyes. I scrambled to push myself upwards, hitting my head against the edge of the tub in the process, but breaking through to the surface. I gasped for air, my lungs welcoming it. Adrian's voice was gone, and I hadn't heard half of his message.

I scrubbed my eyes with the back of my palm to remove some of the soap and blinked. The bubbles were almost all gone now; the water was tepid and lukewarm. How long had I been there for? Reaching forward, I grabbed a sponge and some soap and began scrubbing my legs. With each motion, I felt myself working out my frustration against my defenceless skin. I scrubbed and rubbed and cleaned until every part of me was raw and clean and new. Then I proceeded to untangle my hair until I could run all five fingers through it without it becoming a death trap.

I rinsed off with ease and stepped out of the tub. I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around my body seconds before the door blasted open. I jumped and screamed and almost tripped with the bathroom carpet but was able to find some balance by holding onto the wall. A rush of cold air hit my skin and I shivered. "What the hell!"

"Well, at least you _are_ alive," my eyes snapped and I whirled around. Willow had already closed the door and was standing, leaning against it with her arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed for an evening out in town, the little black dress hugging the curves-that-hadn't-inflated-after-giving-birth nicely. "Do you have any clothes that weren't sprayed by a skunk in here?"

Without softening my glare, I glanced around the room. My dirty clothes were all on the floor, and there was another towel hanging from the sink, but nothing that resembled a clean outfit. Gits didn't leave me anything to wear. "Walk of shame it is, keep your towel up, Liz," Willow said with a particularly evil grin. She grabbed my wrist and I struggled to keep the towel secure around my chest. She opened the door and dragged me out of the bathroom, down the tiny hallway that would lead us to the main living space.

I froze and yanked her back, trying to return to the safety of my loo, but Willow was a woman in a mission. She continued to drag me forward and ignored my silent pleas for mercy like all of life depended on it. My cheeks flushed Weasley-red the second we came into their line of sight. And by 'their' I meant Flint _and_ Wood's. The blokes stopped trying to kill each other with their eyes to gaze at the crazy woman and the half-naked one sauntering by them.

Then my life got complicated.

"Aunt Lisa!"

"Ryan no!" Willow and I screamed at the same time as a little five year old boy rushed towards us and attached himself to my legs. I felt the towel begin to give, and I scrambled to keep it up. My skin was simmering; I could feel Wood's eyes glued to the little scene and I was out of ideas.

"Ryan come here, lad," I saw Adrian appear from the kitchen with what looked like candy. I heard barking from the kitchen. "I'll give you one of these if you let Lisa go. What do you say?"

I held my breath as the kid made a pretence of indecision before finally releasing me and running towards Adrian. I shot him the briefest of 'thank you' looks before rushing past Willow and opening the secret door to my room. Once safe in hiding, I allowed myself to breath. My heart was beating with all the intensity of a bull stampede in Pamplona and my legs felt like they had been hit with the jelly-leg jinx. When the door behind me opened, I jumped high enough that I almost hit my head with the ceiling.

Willow strolled in, a big fat grin adorning her heart-shaped face. "I've locked the door, you can change now," she said and walked over to my bed. Her smile never leaving her lips, she sat down and crossed her legs. "And make it one of the many short dresses you have. Wood was never good at stripping his eyes off of them."

I felt heat rise up my neck again, but ignored it and tackled my suitcase instead. I sighed at the mess of wrinkled clothes. Two weeks back and I hadn't even bothered to unpack. Merlin, I had issues.

"While we are on topic, you forgot to mention that he is your roommate," Willow's voice sounded pleased rather than upset. I shrugged as I found a pair of playthings and slid them on before continue rummaging for a suitable outfit. "Funny that how that just slipped your mind, isn't it?"

I yanked a black dress out and Willow's hand caught it. "You are joining us for a classy dinner party, Elizabeth, darling," she said as she threw the dress on the floor, "not a funeral. Here, put this one on," she fished another dress, this one navy blue with long sleeves, and threw it against my chest. "Blue's always been your color."

I shot her a look but slipped the dress on. It was short, like she wanted, the loose hem reaching two inches above my knee. It had long sleeves and a rather large dip on the back. "This is your plan, isn't it?" I finished searching for a pair of shoes to wear and left them to the side, walking instead towards my dressers and grabbing the brush.

Willow shrugged and her smiled widened. "Put your hair up, it'll elongate your neck."

I rolled my eyes. "Why all the effort?"

"Because you didn't tell me that the bloke you've been pinning for five years is living right next to you," I felt myself flush again and turned to the side so she couldn't see. "And you've let him see you in that ratted pyjama? The Elizabeth I went to Hogwarts with wouldn't have been caught with those on even if her own life depended on it."

"Maybe she's changed," I muttered low enough that I doubted she heard me. I brushed my hair until it hang limply down my back and put the hairbrush down, staring at Willow with enough intensity to pin her to her spot but no retort came out. Admitting silent defeat, I grabbed my wand and began drying my hair.

"No point crying over spilled potion, I suppose. What are you going to do about it now?"

I shot her a look from behind the curtain of my hair. "What do you mean?"

Willow huffed, grabbed her own wand and began aiding me in the process. "You never stopped fancying him, Lisa. And he is currently _single_."

"Going through divorce."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Details. "

I threw her a glance through my mirror but Willow was too far off into her own demonic thoughts to pay me much heed. I finished drying my hair and was about to put it into a sock bun when the bell rung. Willow sprung up from my bed and onto her feet. She didn't say a word before disappearing out of my room. With a roll of my eyes, I finished up my hair. I grabbed my shoes, put them on, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

I peered out without exiting but the angle of the bookcase made it really hard to get a good look. I could see what looked like a green banner hanging on the wall in front of the telly. I heard Ryan screeching in glee and more voices than I had accounted for; one I didn't even recognize. I was working on putting voices to names when a blurb of gold got me out of my reverie.

"Lizzie Montieth hiding, what has the world come down to?"

I smiled. "Gwen."

My cousin's hands flew to her chest. "I thought since you had forgotten to answer all my letters, you also forgot my name." I rolled my eyes. Gwen smiled and threw an arm around me, bringing me in for a hug. I buried my head in her mane of blond curls, secretly savoring the fact that I was still taller. When she pulled away I took a moment to look at her. I hadn't seen Gwen in almost three years, when this whole Second Wizarding War affair broke out. She was now of age, graduated after a tumultuous last year at Hogwarts, and beginning her healer's training at St. Mungo's.

She looked so grown up, I felt like an old hag.

"Now come," she said, chaining her arm in mind and leading me towards the living room. "Willow's arranged quite the party for you, and it wouldn't do for the guest of honour not to show up, even if she doesn't deserve it."

I chose not to answer. Instead, I marvelled at the fact that she was right- Willow _had_ done quite a thing. There a rather large banner, in green and silver, hanging over the wall and obscuring the telly that read "Welcome home Lizzie." A table was set up against it with a fair amount of food which I presumed had been bought at either the Leaky Cauldron or nearby muggle restaurants. The sofa's had been vanished, opening up the room so people could stand up and mingle.

Ryan, Willow's little devil, came running through the crowd (alright twelve people that were assembled) towards us. I disengaged myself from Gwen to hug him, but he little brat jumped onto Gwen's open arms instead. She shot me an amused glance over his head.

Traitor.

"Aunt Lizzie!" I turned my head around. Elena, William's little girl, jumped off of her mother's lap and rushed towards me. I kneeled down to hug her. After Elena, Francis approached and we held each other at arm's length, although we were both grinning. Unlike his sister, Francis wasn't changed at all. He was still tall and lanky, blond and annoying. Gwen attached herself to my shoulder once again and paraded me around the room. Most people I had seen fairly recently, such as my brother's and my flatmates (although Gwen made a subtle, but elaborate, effort to keep me away from Oliver, something about me looking better from afar). Instead, she grabbed a hold of a rather nice looking bloke that I actually didn't know.

"This is Luke," she said with a radiant smile. Luke, all six feet of him, smiled back at both of us. He was drinking a premium brand of butterbeer, and by the looks of his robes, he was well to do.

"Elizabeth, a pleasure to meet you," he took a hold of my hand and kissed it. I should have blushed and stumbled on my words, I suppose, but my head had just reached an epiphany.

"Luke's cousin!" Two pair of brown eyes looked at me in confusion. Now my cheeks tinted. "You cousin, he remodelled the flat. Corey said so," I pointed at the younger blond who was sending Gwen furtive glances while appearing to talk to Willow.

Luke laughed a loud and not-very-melodic laugh. "I shall be remembered in history as the cousin of the bloke who remodelled your flat, brilliant."

"You could be remembered in history as my knight in shining armor if you tell your cousin my ceiling leaks," I said with a coy smirk. Luke laughed again and even Gwen giggled.

"Luke is one of Puddlemere's chasers," Gwen explained two minutes later while we arranged food on our plates. "I met him on our way here, we climbed the stairs together."  
I rolled my eyes. "You have a lot to learn about blokes if you think that's romantic."

Gwen smirked and bit into a raw carrot. "And you have a lot to learn from your little cousin, Lizzie," she finished her carrot with a snap and sauntered across the room to where Corey was entertaining Ryan and Elena. I watched her as she perched on the side of the sofa, draping her legs were Corey's arm could brush against them. I stifled a snort.

"Grown up, hasn't she?" I hadn't seen Oliver creep up around me, but now that he was near I couldn't help but breathe rather sharply. Most of our conversations had been held under the forgiving light of three candles at three in the morning; except for my first day back, I hadn't been in close contact with him under appropriate circumstances.

Oliver looked more handsome than he had when we were seventeen if possible. His features had grown into maturity, sharpening around the edges, and softening where pleasing. His chocolate brown eyes looked a little wider than they had been before, although that was probably a trick of the rather large purple bags beneath them. "I suppose she has," I said, drowning my voice into my plate. We stood awkwardly together for a few moments. I wondered if he thought I had changed too, now that he saw me in proper lighting.

Then Willow came in to ruin the perfect awkward moment. "Lizzie, come," she said, snaked her arm around mine and pulled before I could finish swallowing my chip. She dragged me a few feet, to where Adrian, Luke, and Armand were talking like best buddies. I shot her a curious look, daring to look behind me to catch Oliver walking towards Corey and Gwen. Willow smiled triumphantly. "He can appreciate you better from the distance, Lizzie," she said, pretending to be fixing her curls. "Besides, jealousy is a potent aphrodisiac," she turned her head around, pointing at Luke, and hitting me in the head with a curl.

I grabbed another chip and bit into it thoughtfully. "He is on the rebound, Liz," Willow whispered. "Now is your chance."

Without meaning to, I caught Luke's eye and I smiled, my insides twisting like worms in mud.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- Winding

"Of course he will be delighted to have you!" Willow insisted, throwing her husband a pointed look which he returned with his infamous troll sneer. "Wouldn't you, pumpkin?"

I imagined the wheels in Flint's head turning fast enough to beat a turtle; his hands were hidden inside the pockets of his robes which were moving rather ominously. "Of course, sweetheart," he said through gritted teeth after losing the unspoken silent war with his much cleverer wife.

And that is why I was up at five thirty in the morning on a otherwise perfect morning getting ready for my first day on the job. As Flint's new _assistant._

I shuddered.

Then I realized I had been standing in the middle of the loo for the past ten minutes without moving. And without wearing socks. The floor was cold. I threw my toothbrush into the container on the side and took a moment to asses myself in the mirror.

Twenty three years old, living with a bunch of blokes, and going to work for my ex-fiancé – I smirked at my reflection and tossed my hair behind me. At least I wasn't wearing my rotted old pajamas anymore.

Corey and Adrian were already having breakfast in the kitchen, using the countertop as a table due to lack of said table. I needed to get working on redecorating this place, and getting rid of that mammoth sofa that took up all the space. "Good morning," I chanted, walked past Adrian and grabbed the kettle. Bloody idiots didn't leave me any water.

They both greeted me and begged for a refill of their tea. I threw them the first of my early-morning nasty looks. They laughed at me and continued with their toasts. Pretending to ignore them, I heated the water up my wand and tapped my foot as I waited. I stole a few glances behind me to see if Oliver would be joining us, but his door remained shut.

"You can stop pretending not to be looking," Adrian said after catching the direction of my eye. He surprised me enough to make me burn myself with a few boiling droplets of water. I cursed him under my breath, and grabbed the tin container which held the breakfast tea. "He's already left for practice."

"I thought practice started at six thirty," I said looking at the clock on top of the oven which stated it was still five to six. I poured a tea bag in my mug and filled it with water.

"It's Wood, Lisa," Adrian said munching on some toast. I walked past him towards the fridge to get the milk. It wasn't there. I swore again. This morning was not going the way I had planned it. "The bloke's demented"

Corey, bless his soul, had the milk jug beside me. He gave me a sheepish smile when I stole it. I added a single spoonful of sugar and stirred. "Still," Corey said, continuing the conversation him and Adrian had been having before I arrived. "We should speak with Maud, he left at four this morning."

My eyebrows narrowed. I took a sip of my coffee. Adrian shook his head. "That's a whole two hours earlier than before."

I blinked. "Are we still talking about Wood?"

Both of them looked at me. "Of course. The idiot's going to get his head blasted with a bludger during next week's game if he continues like this."

"I haven't noticed anything abnormal," I said, thinking hard. Of course, my close-to-23 hours a day naps didn't leave me with much time to socialize with any of my flatmates, let alone learn the new and sinuous paths their odd habits had taken.

Adrian rolled his eyes before he got up, grabbed his dirty plate and threw it inside the basin. He talked as he washed it. "He's been leaving the flat around three each morning. When Maud, our coach, gets to the field around five thirty she says he's already there looking as though he's played a full game on his own."

I shrugged. "And how is that a deviation from his Hogwarts days?"

"He's also been going to bed rather late," Corey added, also getting up but not to wash his dishes; he grabbed the box of Choco Charms and began eating from the box itself. "We think he's going to collapse soon. Didn't you notice the bags under his eyes yesterday?"

I shook my head and shrugged. After Willow devised her diabolical Drive-Wood-Nuts-With-Jealousy plan, I hadn't had much time to spend on the bloke itself. In fact, since the night of my arrival, Wood and I had barely spoken more than three sentences. "I just hope that after Friday he gets his things together. We need him in arse-kicking mood next week when we play the Tornadoes," Adrian said with an air of finality as he dried his hands on a cloth. He stared at me as if implying it was my ruddy fault his keeper was nutty.

"What happens on Friday?" I asked after a long moment of silence (ruptured by Corey's munching on cereal). Adrian grabbed a banana from a basket I hadn't noticed, and sat down next me again. "His divorce is finalized."

To pretend I wasn't stupefied by this, I took a large gulp of my tea, and continued pretending I still had something to drink when I run out. "I feel so bad for him," Corey said, putting the box down on the table and poking at his teeth with his left hand. "I never met Briana but by the way everyone spoke of her, it seemed he really loved her."

To pretend that didn't bother me, I got up and walked towards the sink to wash my mug and grab a banana for myself. "He had it coming," Adrian said with his mouth full.

"What do you mean?" I asked before I could hold my tongue. I forgot all about my breakfast and sat down again, hoping Adrian wasn't on top of his game and spilled the beans. I had been living with the agony of not knowing all the gossip for three whole weeks now, and it was about ruddy time I found out.

Adrian shot me a mocking glance, and bit into his banana deliberately slow. "He became a right toerag after the Battle of Hogwarts. Worse than you on your good days, actually," I dug my freshly manicured nails into the skin of his forearm. He squealed and pulled his hand away, muttering something about batty.

"What he means to say," Corey said, "is that Oliver had a difficult time coping with the aftermath."  
Adrian snorted. "Don't sugar coated. He was more depressed than Lisa since she put a heeled to in England," this time he pulled away before I could damage his living tissues. "He was downright moping and moody; Briana said he would scream in the middle of the nights, nightmares," he said with a nod. "And when she tried to help him, he would push her away. Eventually she couldn't handle him anymore, so she filed for divorce."

I stared at him, and blinked. His wife, his nice, pretty little _Hufflepuff_ wife left him after he had fought during one of the bloodiest battles in modern wizarding history? "That's disgusting," I said surprising myself and Adrian. Corey nodded. Adrian shot him an annoyed look.

"What are you agreeing to? You had just been scouted into the team."

Corey fixed his eyes on Adrian before answering. "You are forgetting I also fought during the Battle, _and_ I was at Hogwarts during the Carrows'; I know more of what happened than you do, Adrian. And what Briana did was sleazy. Oliver needed her; all she's done is finish destroying him."

They both left soon after that, neither of them in good spirits. I drank another cup of tea, relishing in the smell of it and the heat of the mug, and simply thought. What could have happened during the Battle to leave Oliver so scarred? I wrecked my memory of old newspapers and reports on the fallen to find something, someone, whose lose could have meant so much but I couldn't come up with anything. Sighing in defeat, I walked back to my room to finish dressing for my first day as Flint's secretary.

I had to admit, my prospects of an enjoyable day were looking rather grim.

oOo

I arrived at Flint's office with less than five minutes to spare. It was located on Directa Alley, just off the corner of Twiliftt and Tatting's and Rosa Lee Teabag. I looked up at the Gothic building I was amazed at the simple fact that Marcus-Troll-Flint could have become successful enough to have his office at such an incredible location.

Shaking my head to rid it of unwanted jealousy, I placed my hand on the antique brass door handle and twisted it. The lobby looked immaculate, and I had to restrain my mouth from hanging open once more. A large, marble staircase was the centrepiece; the floors were sparkling white marble, and the walls were paneled in mahogany wood. I looked down at my outfit and felt out of place; I was wearing old robes, and a pencil skirt which was starting to fray at the ends. Merlin, this was a new low, I thought while walking up the three flights of stairs that led to Flint's office. I'm feeling inadequate in a place that is _Flint's_.

The third floor was devoted to Flint & Flint Legal Aid. I stifled a chortle; below the golden plaque there was a picture of Flint Sr. and Flint Jr. His dad looked like a replica of the hand-drawn troll in my beginner's defense against the darks arts textbook, while Flinty looked like a duck. I opened the glass door, and my senses were overwhelmed with the amount of activity of eight twenty-seven in the morning. Paper airplanes were flying the room with remarkable speed. An elderly woman was busy sorting parchments and ignoring a pedantic airplane that insisted on poking her shoulder; I watched her while she waved the piece of paper off.

When she noticed, after I cleared my throat, the airplane ceased the opportunity to poke her inside her ear. "Bloody ruddy things," she yelled before pulling it out. Once in her hand, she glared at it, crushed it into a ball and threw it inside the fireplace behind her. I watched as the flames consumed it. "And who the ruddy hell are you?"

"Elizabeth Montieth, Marcus Flint's new assistant," I extended my hand for her to shake but she took one look at it and turned around, muttering something under her breath. I stood still, feeling mortified. Had I walked into the wrong bleeding office, or did the prick of Flint forget to let his employees know I would be starting work today?

"There you are," I jerked my head; Flint was sauntering out of a side office I hadn't noticed towards me. I grabbed my arm and yanked me towards it. "You are late, tsk, tsk."

I rolled my eyes and removed his hand from mine. We stood facing each other at the entrance of the office. "I wouldn't have if you had bothered to let your secretary know I would be here today," I said, poking him in the chest with my index finger. "I've been standing there like an idiot for the past five minutes!"

Flint smiled. "First correct thing you've ever said in your life, Montieth," he put his hands on my upper back and steered me in. I wanted to turn around and stomp on his shiny dragonskin shoes, but the depressing fact that he was my ruddy boss forced me to control my instinctual urges. "You'll be working from here," he motioned to a small wooden desk. I eyed the space. There was a large bay window where a much larger (and nicer) desk stood; there were three bookcases packed with massive tomes lining the left wall. My desk had been pushed to a corner and had an uncomfortable looking chair next to it. There was a large plant separating my seating space from what I supposed was Flint's.

"Your first task," he walked towards a gigantic filing cabinet just behind my mediocre desk, "is to reorganize all of these files alphabetically."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him. Flint sneered in a manner that resembled a self-satisfied smile. "You want me to alphabetize?"

"Precisely."

A feral noise almost escaped from my throat before I reeled it in. The bloody bastard wanted to me alphabetize? Merlin, I wasn't going to survive the day. "Is this what you hired me for?" I asked, taking a step forward and dumping my bag on the pitiful piece of wood I was supposed to call a ruddy desk. "You don't even have a proper space for me!"

The corners of his mouth turned downwards, and he too took a step forward. "Listen here," he said, enunciating every word. He stood close enough to tower over me. "I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart," I snorted. "Out of charity and because Willow bleeding threatened me if I didn't."  
"And because you owe me your wife and son's life," I replied with a sneer of my own. Flint's face went from beet red to kale green.

"And trust me, I do not want to owe you _anything_ ," he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down on the chair; I tried to oppose him, but he happened to be a lot bigger and stronger than I. "So don't get cheeky with me or you'll go back to being unemployed." I glowered at him for a moment longer, considering my options. Was it my fate to always be a damned caged bird?  
"Fine, I'll alphabetize."

He smiled again, and released the pressure from my shoulders. "That's a good girl."

I had a retort halfway up my throat when a knock interrupted us. Flint straightened up and kicked my shins to get me to stand up. Standing by the door, was Flint Sr. I gulped. Flint Sr. marched into the crowded space with an air of one who owns the ruddy building. "Elizabeth Montieth," he said, drowning each syllabi with contempt. "So you have joined the family business, I see," I watched him send his son a pointed look. Surprisingly, Flint held his ground.

"As I told you, father, I needed an administrative assistant. The Defrage case is accumulating an alarming amount of correspondence. Elizabeth was gracious enough to agree to help out for some time."

Flint Sr. took a long, hard look at his son and then at me. I tried to keep my face free of emotions, while inside there was a tornado. After all, it wasn't every day that you were face to face with your ex-almost-father-in-law, working for the bloke who was supposed to be your husband before he went and got your roommate with child. Without another word, Flint Sr. left the office.

"Let's make a truce Montieth," Flint said after we both let out the breath we had been holding in. "I promise not to make your life a living nightmare, and you will scout every possibility that may lead you to land a proper job, agreed?"

I glanced at his outstretched hand and had to wonder when Flinty had grown up so much. "Agreed."

When I got home late that afternoon, I found Adrian, Corey, and Luke plotting. They were crowded around the coffee table, the telly for once off, and were muttering like a bunch of teenage girls reading Witch Weekly's 50 Hottest Wizards of the Year. I dumped my handbag on the table were everyone's keys were; I noticed one was missing.

"How was work? Corey, pass the biscuits," Adrian said without lifting his head. I rolled my eyes and walked over the only unoccupied sofa and plopped down. Luke sent me a dashing smile, which I only returned half-heartedly. I swung my legs over the arm rest and let my head hung down.

"D'you reckon we may be going too far with this?"

I heard Adrian snort. "Going too far?"

"Since when is hiring a few gorgeous girls for a stag night going too far?" I rolled my eyes. Blokes.

I inspected a lock of hair, my head still dangling from the side of the sofa. "Who's getting married?"

"Oliver."

I sat up fast enough to drain the blood from my brain all the way down to my toes; they were tingling and my heart was racing. Oliver? "Wood?"

Adrian chuckled, and grabbed a biscuit out of a box on the table. "Relax, Lizzie, he's not getting married again. We are planning a happy divorce party for him on Friday."

My muscles relaxed, and the arm that was holding me up slipped backwards. I took a second to scold myself for being rash. Who cared if Wood was getting married or divorce? I tried to convince myself, forcing Willow's sumptuous suggestions out of my brain without much success. "What _is_ a happy divorce party anyway?"

"One of my most brilliant ideas, if I do say so myself," Luke said, raising both hands to his chest to cup his heart. He winked at me. "Our dear keeper has been under the weather for too long thanks to that wench; now that he is regaining his freedom, I thought it out duty to reintroduce it to the incredible world of singlehood."

I arched an eyebrow, examining the bloke in front of me. "And you think strippers are the way to go?"

Luke and Adrian exchanged wry glances; both of them sporting identically perverted grins. "Strippers are always the way to go." I exhaled and let my body dump backwards once again. I relished in the feeling of the blood flooding my head while I twiddled my thumbs. They continued plotting; each plan to make Oliver realize that he was gaining a whole new life rather than losing an old decrepit one surpassing the previous in terms of mischief, and sheer stupidity. By the time we all got hungry and decided to go to Diagon Alley for supper, I was certain they wouldn't go through with half the things they had thought out.

Of course, they proved me wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Tempted

The rest of my first week of work was as boring as the first day. I had to give Flint some credit; it took a lot of creativity to keep on finding chores for me to do when there was no need for me to do them. I was vacillating between frustration with him, and actual gratitude. Then again, the latter should go to Willow who was the mastermind behind this little enterprise. At least it paid the bills.

One of the things that I had taken upon myself to do, which was useful for a change, was be in charge of the mail. Betty, the crone that had been with the Flint's since time immemorial, always greeted me in the mornings with her characteristic scorn. Thankfully, I realise it wasn't just me she didn't appreciate; it was the entire universe with the exception of Flint Sr. Marcus, as I started calling him in my head to differentiate him from his father and one of his cousins who also worked in the family business, confessed on my third day that he had been terrified of the fat old woman since she almost sat on him when he was five.

Needless to say, I almost choked on my laughter.

On Friday, after putting my things away in the little niche of space I had made for myself between the door and the wall, I ventured into Betty's territory to retrieve Marcus' mail. As usual, I stole Betty's Daily Prophet so I could peruse the classified sections in peace. As part of our agreement, I had to search high and low for a real job whiles staying out of Marcus' business as much as possible. I was determined to fulfill my part of the bargain within a two month period. Whenever I run out of mundane things to do, I would research possible companies and journals, as well as mail letters to the people I had worked with during my brief time at the Prophet before they send me to Luxembourg to die.

I sighed and flipped through the many letters in my hand; perusing through Marcus' mail was one of the few guilty pleasures this gig afforded me. If only the stupid war hadn't broken out, my trip to Luxembourg would have succeeded. I was there as a special international correspondent, covering important wizarding events in the Low Countries. On paper, it was a fantastic opportunity, with travel, good cuisine, and profitable earnings. Of course, they declined to inform me that it was a freelance gig, and that nothing remotely scandalous occurs in those countries.

My only outlet of journalism had been the Bigonville Bombers, the national team known for its offensive strategies. Much to my dismay, the ministry had to go and get itself overtaken by You-Know-Who's forces at the same time as the European Quidditch Cup was being played in Portugal. I was already at the transportation centre in Luxembourg when I was told that due to the current climate in my country, they were suspending my travelling documents and couldn't go. I returned to my flat only to find an owl saying I was no longer in possession of a job.

I threw the letters on top of Marcus' desk and sat down on my chair. I stared at the white wall ahead of me for a few long breaths before slapping myself. Time to snap out of it, Elizabeth. With a heavy sigh, I stood up again to grab the prophet and continue to soulless search for a job somewhere. I was debating sending an application for Borgin & Burges when Marcus entered the office. I waved at him without lifting my eyes from the parchment. I had a quill in one hand and was about to circle the ad when he spoke.

"What in Salazar's name is this stupid shin-ding?" he walked over to my desk and threw a square piece of parchment in my face. I unstuck it from my face and read it while cleaning my nose of any ink with the back of my hand. I snorted.

"So they are going through with this…"

"Speak in riddles, why don't you!" I lifted my eyes to look at Marcus' exasperated expression and returned the invitation to him.

"Adrian is throwing Wood a happy divorce party at our place," I said returning my attention back to my job hunting. "You are welcome to come, I suppose."

He snorted. "Happy divorce shin-ding? I doubt they'll manage to pull something like that off."

Of course, they did manage

When I arrived to the flat later than usual that afternoon (for Flint Sr. decided he required some last minute organizational services and had me search all his file cabinets for the one piece of parchment that was inside his breast pocket the entire time), the shin-ding was in full swing. I stood by the door with an open mouth while a scantily clad woman poured some drinks to a bunch of heatstroked blokes. I searched the room for Adrian, but could not find him. Instead, I saw more than one couple snogging on the sofa, a group of people playing adult exploding snap (you took a shot of firewhiskey whenever it exploded), and Gwen laughing merrily next to Corey and a pair of blonds.

I approached my cousin, who twirled around to give me a hug with a large smile on her face. She seemed like sweet alcohol with a dash of cinnamon. "What have you been drinking? It is only seven in the evening!"

Gwen rolled her eyes and showed me her half-empty glass. "It's a cocktail; the barmaid they hired makes good ones." I eyed her, wondering just when my little cousin grew up, and stole her drink. She shrugged while I finished it off.

"Elizabeth!" Corey screeched, reaching past Gwen to tap my shoulder. He looked as drunk as a lord; his cheeks were red and he sported a hilarious smirk. "Meet Evie and Owen, our beater!" he pointed towards the pair of blonds.

Evie was shorter than me and sported long sunshine-colored tresses. She was wearing bright orange robes and a large smile. I was surprised when she lunged forward and hugged him with the force of an orangutan. At least that explained her beater position. "So nice to meet you!" she said, slurring her words.

The bloke, Owen, pulled on her dress to drag her backwards. He was taller than Adrian and Wood, with broad shoulders and dazzling green eyes. I began to feel a whole lot better about this celebration already. "Luke wasn't joking when he said you were comely," his accent sounded Irish and I could feel myself getting infatuated. Evie slapped his arm.

"Don't be rude, Owen!" she pouted and he laughed, placing a kiss on her forehead. Well, there go my fantasies me supposes… "Look there is Amy!" Evie disentangled from Owen's embrace and rushed towards a newly arrived woman. I eyed her for a second, before turning my attention back to my cousin. I wanted to ask her whether the man in question had arrived, but Evie was back bringing forth the stranger before I could.

"Amy this is Gwen," she said, pushing the woman towards my cousin and me. "And this is Elizabeth. We are finally meeting them!" Evie finished with a maniac grin. The brown-haired woman, Amy, offered us a wry smile and shook our hands.

"Pleasure to meet you."  
"Amy is our healer," Corey said, popping in next to Gwen and leaning his chin on her shoulder. Amy appeared strict and finicky; her robes had been ironed to perfection, and not a single hair was out of bounds. I self-consciously touched the ends of my own hair, which had been cut several inches since Hogwarts finished, and decided I needed to trim some dead ends. I didn't like her.

Then she asked the question I had been dying to know the answer of. "Is Oliver here yet?" Of course, my dislike was boosted. I narrowed my eyes and took a long, calculating look. She was looking around the room, relying on her high heels to see over people's heads.

"Bastard's taking his sweet time," Adrian said, startling me. He placed one arm over my shoulder and one over Gwen's; he was holding a glass on each hand. I reached upwards and stole the butterbeer from him. On the other side, Gwen shrugged his arm off. "Pity too, missing all the fun."

I sniffed his shirt; he reeked off alcohol. Following Gwen's example, I dumped his arm off of my shoulder and poked him in his arm. "You stink. How drunk are you?"

"Go ahead, rain on me fireworks," I scowled but he didn't seem to notice. All of a sudden, the room had grown quiet; the distinct sound of a key twisting inside a lock could be heard whereas before I had to shout to speak to Gwen. My hand clenched over my drink. Then the door open.

The room erupted in cheers and whistles. Oliver stood transfixed by the door, one hand holding a briefcase the other still glued to his key. I wanted to get a good look at his face, but a second later he was surrounded by people, Adrian first amongst them. They were short of joisting him up and parading him like a hero. I turned around to speak to Gwen, and noticed that Amy was missing. My head snapped back to the front, and saw her coming closer to Oliver.

"She's had it in bad for him since day one," Corey whispered in my ear making me jump. I huffed and turned around, hooking my arm through Gwen's and pushing her towards the makeshift bar. I dunked the butterbeer I had stolen and ordered two drinks. Gwen arched an eyebrow, but kept quiet.

Oliver's arrival ignited the party; if before it was a merry-making opportunity, it had turned into a total bash. Adrian and Luke (for I doubted Corey had much to do with his) had outdone even my wildest expectations. They had hired a band to play covers of the Weird Sisters, the music was rebounding off of the walls and it was all I could do to worry about the neighbours complaining.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Corey shouted. He, Gwen, and I were camping inside the kitchen as it was the only place where one could hold a proper conversation. Evie would pop in from time to time to get more food and delight us with stories of the insanity happening in the other room. Every time she mentioned Oliver and a woman's name (mainly Amy) I would don another shot. By midnight, I think I had appropriated the entire Ice Vodka bottle for meself. "Luke's cousin dropped by this afternoon and soundproofed the apartment. The muggles shouldn't be able to hear more than we can hear each other speak."

By two in the morning, my head was close to exploding. Gwen and Corey had disappeared into the mosh pit about a half hour ago. I hadn't seen Adrian since Oliver arrived, and despite the many Quiddtich player (for they had invited several members of opposing teams) and other random blokes who had approached me, I was not in the mood for any frolicking. I grabbed the more than half empty bottle by the neck and crept to my room, trying not to drop any liquor on my blouse.

A wave of delightful semi-silence hit me full blow. I hastened to close the door behind me and leaned against it, relishing in the smoke-and-alcohol free smell of my room. The lights were off, with only enough illumination from the street lamps filtering through the window. It took me a minute to notice there was someone on my bed. With a groan, I tightened my hold on the bottle and approached the bed. I was going to knock out the arshole when I noticed it was Oliver. "Wood?"  
He turned around; his eyes bulging. I could see a half-hearted grin appear on his face. "What on Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"Hiding."

I gaped at him and placed the bottle on my bedside table. "Why in my room?"

He shrugged. "More than one bird has tried to drag me to me own room, yours seemed safe." I rolled my eyes and took a seat next to him. He had straightened up and was now sitting up. He reached forward, his arm brushing against my body, and grabbed the bottle. I bit my lips while I watched him take a long sip, relishing in the opportunity to stare at his Adam's apple, his cheekbones…

When he opened his eyes, I hastened to look away, blushing. Thankfully, it was dark enough he would have had a hard time seeing me going red. He offered me the bottle. "Where have you been all night?"

I took the bottle from him and took a drink myself. My hands were tingling. "Hiding in the kitchen with Gwen and Corey, until they dropped me."

He chuckled and I passed him the bottle. "Those two seem to be growing closer." I nodded, feeling a lump form in my stomach and crawl its way up to my throat. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.

We both kept quiet, each caught up in our own bubble. I was aware of how close his thigh was to mine, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. How many times had I cursed the Hogwarts's uniform for making me wear a quilt, and as an adult I still chose skirts? A giggle escaped my lips while I was taking a drink.

"Bugger," I touched the front of my blouse which was icky and sticky. And I liked that blouse too.

"Here," Oliver said reaching forward. "I have a handkerchief," I took it from him, my hand brushing his and staying there. Neither of us moved a muscle, our hands were holding the handkerchief in unison. The lump was well settled in the middle of my throat. I was afraid if I spoke I would croak like a frog. Oliver recovered first; he pushed the handkerchief towards me and looked away. I dabbed at my front, lamenting the severed of physical contact.

I was too keenly mindful of how awkward our silence had grown. Despite living beneath the same roof for well over a month I had spoken to Oliver a handful of times. He was either away or I was taking a kip. Did we still have things to talk about, or had we grown up to be two people with no connection other than the past?

"She is with someone else, you know?" he said after a long time. I turned my head sidewise, trying to gauge who 'she' was. His forearms were resting over his knees, and his head hung low; there was a slight shake in his posture, as if a small breeze would tumble him over. I understood. "He was waiting for her outside the lawyer's office; been together a few weeks I reckon," my hand hovered uncertain over his shoulder, but I didn't dare to let it fall and touch him. He gave off a throaty chuckle before looking up. "Who does that? We hadn't signed the papers and yet she's already… I guess I'm no good at this," he finished with a sigh.

"What, divorcing someone?"

Oliver laughed, for real this time, and I smiled. At least my own foolishness has some perks. "No, relationships of the romantic kind," he said, turning his head to stare at me and straightened up. I took a deep, longing look into his brown eyes. My body felt compelled to draw forward, to get closer. His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. "There was Abigail, then you-"

"You were good with me," I muttered, becoming conscious of the fact that my body _was_ leaning in and deciding against stopping it. Oliver didn't seem to mind. "You were the best boyfriend I ever had."

One hand reached forward to tuck a loose hair behind my ear. I shivered at the contact and closed my eyes. When Oliver spoke next, I could feel his warm breath on my nose. "You do realize you are comparing me to Higgs, don't you?"

I smiled and rearranged my torso so I was more accessible from his angle. His hand moved to cup the back of my hand, getting tangled I my hair. One my own hands landed on his shoulder. "How do you know I didn't befriend a gorgeous bloke while I was away?" I asked, licking my lips and parting them open.

His eyes flickered down to my mouth before returning to my eyes. My heartbeat had accelerated to the speed of a Firebolt; there were tiny insects crawling up my legs, nestling in my belly, and making everything itch. My nose rubbed against his, and a sigh escaped my lips. "You would have bragged about it by now."

The grip on my head strengthened, and he pulled me in. My hands crashed against his chest while my head move upwards. Each heartbeat exacerbated the need to feel his lips on mine; the pressure in my stomach was making me dizzy. I closed my eyes and grabbed the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His lips were lingering over mine, and I knew we both wanted this as much as it terrified us. The weight of everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, the force with which his fingers pulled my hair forced me forward. His other hand grabbed my waist.

My lips brushed against him, sending fireworks up and down my body. I stood immobile for the longest second of my life. He reinforced his grip on my waist and closed in. I felt a shiver up my spine when his lips touched mine; paralyzing me and making me feel alive.

I tugged on his shirt to deepen this child's play into a proper kiss, when the door blasted open and light poured on us like Filch's lamp on students out of bed.

"Oi, I found him!"

The screaming and cheering and whistling made me jump backwards. The back of my head hit the wall; I closed my eyes in pain, feeling all my nerves in edge. When I opened them up, Oliver was being dragged by a mob of blokes. I could distinguish Luke and Adrian amongst them.

That meant bloodshed.

Oliver caught my eyes from above someone's head; he opened his mouth, but they had already hauled him out of the room. I sat still, listening to the blaring music and alternating between plotting murder and trying to hold back tears. Five minutes passed, and he didn't come back.

With a heavy sigh, I walked towards the door and slammed it. My body dropped alongside the door, coming to rest on the ground where I cradled my head in my arms. I felt a sob make its way up my throat, but I killed it before it could make a sound. I refused to cry for a kiss that didn't happen.

The party was still ranging outside. From time to time, someone would bump into my door, making my forehead hit my knees. When this happened for the third time, I decided to go lay down on the bed. I could still hear the music, muffled by the door. I buried my head against my pillows to drown it out. When it seemed like the party would never end, the band began playing Magic Works by the Weird Sisters.

I fell asleep with a heavy heart listening to the lyrics.

 _This is going out to all the lovers out there_

 _Hold each other tight, and keep each other warm._

 _And dance your final dance.1_

…

Yes, it's hard, you must be brave

Don't let this moment slip away

1 wiki/Magic_Works Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6- Interviewed

The creaking noise of the door opening woke me up. I cracked one eye open; there was a figure standing there, their outline visible against the light coming from the room. I propped myself up on my elbows. The door closed, and the person was thrust into darkness. I saw him walking slowly towards the bed.

By now I was almost fully awake. "Oliver?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear them of their gaze.

The person stood by the door and snorted. "No, your fairy godmother."

I groaned and turned to laid on my back. Gwendolyn. I heard her remove her shoes before she sat down next to me. "What time is it?"

"Almost four, last time I checked," she said with a yawn. She stretched her legs on the bed before laying down in fetal position. "Some folks are still out there, but I have to be at the hospital after noon." I nodded, feeling a little bit bad for her. Training to become a healer was a brutal business, if you paired that up with trying to have a normal social life it meant suicide.

I listened to my little cousin's breathing growing slower and deeper. "Gwen?"

She mumbled something that would have made her mother yell at her in the past. With a pang, I remember that both Aunt Adelaine and Uncle Lawrence had been brutally murdered during the war. I turned to the side to look at her. She was only eighteen, she had spent her last year at Hogwarts under the rule of Snape and the Carrows, and she had managed to secure a position for healer in training without needing to return to Hogwarts for an eight year. "How do you manage?"

Gwen opened her eyes and did little to conceal her annoyance. "Take it one day at a time," she fidgeted. "If you try to think about it all at once, it'll consume you."

I stretched my hand to grasp hers. "I should have been here."

She shook her head, but tightened her grip on my hand. "What could you have done?" Nothing, I thought; what was one more wand after all? The war had finished after claiming many lives and altered many more.

I studied my cousin's face in detail. The last time I had seen Gwen, she was fifteen; she was now eighteen and an adult who had experienced more than I had. What remained of the cheeky girl who teased me about Oliver? What was new and improved? I stroked her palm, feeling the soft skin beneath, and promising that I wouldn't let her continue growing up without me there to witness it.

She opened her eyes and squeezed my hand. "What happened with Oliver tonight?" she asked with a yawn. I smiled.

"Does it matter?"

She nodded, her eyes closing seemingly against her will. "Willow and I have another bet going; I need details if I want to win again."

I sniggered and pulled my hand away to remove my hair from my face. "We almost kissed." Gwen's eyes bulged out and her mouth opened. "Then Adrian barged in."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "He's known for being a toe rag," I was surprised by the acrid tone in which she insulted Adrian. I arched an eyebrow but she waved her hand. "We are gossiping about you. What's the strategy?"

I rearranged the pillow beneath me, punching it to air it up. What was the bleeding strategy? "Willow reckons he's on the rebound."

"Please, a Hufflepuff could see that from a mile away."

"But I'm not sure I want to take advantage of that."

Gwen eyed me for a moment. "If you care for my advice-"

"Which you'll deliver regardless-"

"-I would just move on."

I choked on my own spit. "I thought you were our doomed relationship lead cheerleader?"

She shrugged and turned around, so I was left facing her back. "That was in 1994, Lisa. It's been years. You don't know if today's Oliver is the same as the one before; you may not like new Oliver."

oOo

It was with a heavy heart that I woke up on Monday morning to continue the mockery of having a job. Gwen had left the house early on Saturday for her shift at St. Mungo's, and I had yet to cross paths with my flatmates. I reckoned Adrian was plastered in his bedroom with a hangover that would take a week to cure. I didn't know Corey enough to hypothesise where he was; and frankly, I was thankful I hadn't seen Oliver.

I prepared my tea and sat down to drink it. Nibbling at a croissant I had bought yesterday when Armand took me for lunch, I thought. The only positive difference between where I am today and where I was the day after I arrived is that at least now I am dressed and employed –if fake. I sighed and put a large piece of bread in my mouth. At the end of the day, I still didn't have much to show for progress. My thoughts were as muddled as Trelawney's predictions.

That little brat just had to go in a beat them up for good measure. What was I supposed to think? I felt like there were three Elizabeth's sitting with me at the moment. On the one hand, there was Elizabeth number one (who had Willow's voice) telling me to go and find my heart's desire and snog Oliver senseless, morality be damned.

On the other hand, there was Elizabeth number two who, with Gwen's voice, advised me to move the hell on.

In the middle, Elizabeth number three was who, with Gwen's voice, advised me to move the hell on.

In the middle, Elizabeth number three was clouded.

I decided to mull over my options while pretending to redecorate Flint's office and left the flat, leaving Adrian a quick note stating it was his turn to buy milk.

I walked through Diagon Alley, up the stairs that led through the office, grabbed the mail from Betty (and stole her newspaper), and finally sat down to stare into nothingness with the same tangled feelings.

Elizabeth number one, who I mentally sorted into Slytherin, urged me to make a move. If not now, then when? He's recently single, living under the same bleeding room, and as gorgeous as ever.  
Elizabeth number two, a Ravenclaw, counter argued that I had spoken only two words with him throughout the last two months.

"He hasn't been home much, has he?" said Elizabeth 1, who had taken the shape of my right hand. She enunciated quite enthusiastically, almost biting Elizabeth 2. "And when they were together, they almost kissed."

I imagined Elizabeth 2 rolling her eyes. "He didn't come back, did he?"

"Maybe he was drunk as a lord and couldn't put one foot in front of the other," I nodded toward Elizabeth 1's direction; that was known for happening.

Elizabeth 2 slapped Elizabeth 1. "You don't know that."

"You don't know that he wasn't."  
"There are a lot of things about him that you don't know!"

"Talking to your hands?" I sprung from my chair, lowering both Elizabeth's down to my lap. Flint was leaning against the doorframe, grinning. I sent him a glare and straightened my skirt as I got up. He laughed and waved me off, walking towards his desk. I stood by mine, feeling my cheeks heat up with every passing second. He continued smirking after he had sat down. "I always knew the day you cracked would be funny."

With a grimace, I sat down, my back facing him and tried to kill myself in my own mortification.

Thankfully, Flint was the only one to catch me using my hands as puppets. Although I think I was mouthing in the street, because I got more than one odd look on my way home that afternoon.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

Even Corey commented that I seemed more distracted than usual.

Then Adrian couldn't bring himself to keep quiet anymore and asked if he should book me a room at St. Mungo's mental ward.

Then I hexed him.

Rinse, repeat.

On Friday, I decided to finish off this horrible week with a treat. Flint's father was getting on Flint's toes about my lack of productivity, which meant that Flint's knickers were in a constant twist, which translated for a hellish week. The worst part was, I was trying hard to find a proper job. I had found several leads, but received nothing.

The bells at the door chimed when I pushed it open, and the sweet smell of ice-cream flooded my nostrils. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the variety of scents. There was a queue, but I delighted myself looking at the new flavours and trying to decide on my order. After being destroyed by the war, Florean's old ice-cream shop had been bought up and revamped. The new owners had added several new flavours, as well as improved the façade of the place, making it more appealing to the eye.

It was now my turn to see whether they had kept the quality.

After ordering a large vanilla and chocolate fudge, I walked outside to the balcony where Gwen and I had spent countless afternoons gossiping. I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me; today I was alone with my thoughts (Elizabeth 1 and Elizabeth 2 had quieted down), while Gwen was at St. Mungo's learning how to save lives and reverse magical mistakes.

I dug into my ice-cream, savoring the first bite. It was good, really good, but it lacked a certain _je ne se quoi_ that Florena's creations had. It was with resignation that I continued eating. Not even the ruddy ice-cream was the same. When would I stop finding things that were different?

When would this place feel like home again?

"Elizabeth?" I turned around, my spoon still tucked between my teeth. Standing by the door holding her own ice-cream was Penelope Clearwater. Her long dark curls fell around her shoulders, instead of trapped in a plait. Her blue eyes, however, were twinkling with the same light they used to. I jumped to my feet, peeled the spoon from my tongue and rushed to her. She laughed when I embraced her. "Never thought you'd be one for hugs, Lisa!"  
"I'm just glad to see a familiar face," I said burying my head in her curls. After a moment I let go to examine her face. Penelope, hair aside, looked just like she did at Hogwarts; and that was a comforting sight. "Are you here alone?" I asked, standing on my tiptoes to catch an unwelcome display of messy red hair.

Penelope nodded. "I had a bad week and decided I deserved a treat." A large smile appeared on my face; I hooked my arm around hers and led her towards my table.

"Then today is your lucky day," I said resuming my old seat and brandishing my spoon like a sword. "We get to eat together."

Penelope smiled and dug into her own ice-cream. "I haven't seen you in ages. I read about your family in the papers, I'm sorry," her hand grabbed mine and, for a brief second, she squeezed. I felt my eyes become harder, but pushed back against them and changed the topic with a nod.

"How about you? Still with Weasley?"

She shook her head and lowered her eyes. I bit my lip; Merlin, there was a _lot_ I didn't know. Back at Hogwarts I thought those two would get marry and produce more little Weasleys. Can't say the prospect looked inviting. "We broke up two years after we left Hogwarts."

"Can I ask why?" I asked while licking my spoon. Penelope's hands were holding tightly onto her bowl; her head hadn't lifted back up. She looked like someone who needed to spill her guts out.

"We fought about everything," she began after a long silent pause. It was beginning to get dark, but the chilly September air was welcoming. "He got too ambitious, and it blinded him. After he got that stupid promotion, he just wasn't himself anymore."

"You mean he stopped being a self-absorbed, pedantic pig?"

She chuckled and took another spoonful. When she looked up, her eyes had a thin watery layer, but they were smiling too. "I always thought it was rather charming."

I rolled my eyes. "He got into a huge fight with his parents, did you know? He called them liars and all sorts of nasty stuff. Molly came crying one night, begging me to talk to him but when I did, he said I was no better than them; that I was jealous of his position at the Ministry and that I was a constant boulder he had to carry around."

My eyes bulged. Who knew Weasley could hurt? I reached over to touch her shoulder. "We can still hex him, you know?"

She chuckled again and shook her head. "I couldn't believe he had changed so much. I guess I never realised how much of a git he could be." I nodded. "I wasn't going to let him walk all over me, so I moved out of the flat we had rented together after living in it for a week."

"Have you spoken to him since?"

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "He came to his senses when it became impossible to ignore that You-Know-Who was back. But what kind of girl would I be if I took him back?"

I didn't know that Weasley had turned against his family. Although I had never met his parents, I had seen his mom ever single year standing by the Hogwarts express with tears in her eyes and a warm hug for each of her many children. It was hard to imagine that someone could have scorned a woman who looked so loving and caring. It only reinforced my belief that Weasley was a git.

"What's new with you? Did you and Oliver ever get back together?" she asked after a long moment of silence. She leaned her head on her wrist, and played with her spoon and empty container. "You two looked adorable together. I still have some pictures from that ball."  
I felt myself blush and my heart constrict. "Things didn't work out."

She arched an eyebrow, silently telling me to elaborate. "He didn't believe you, did he?"

"No."

"Gryffindor's are hot heads."

I smiled. "Indeed they are."

It was late by the time I came home. Penelope and I ended up going to the Leaky Cauldron for some supper and drinks. We had spoken about everything and anything we could think of; we had laughed like hyenas until alcohol spurted out of our noses. It had been the perfect ending to a very long streak of bad luck. And her hooking me up with an interview at Witch Weekly was just the cherry on top.

"An old classmate just got a promotion," she had said in between giggles. "And now she's looking for an assistant. She offered me the position, but I am comfortable. Why don't I owl her for you?"

Bingo!

Elizabeth scored herself an interview at Witch Weekly. Assistant to the fashion Executive Director sounded like the perfect foot in; from there onwards, I would slowly climb the ladder. All I had to do now was not screw up this interview.

Which Penelope arranged for the Wednesday after our reunion.

I dressed up for the occasion with my best set of robes, a prim white shirt, black skirt and black pumps. The interview was at Witch Weekly Central, located in the heart of London. The building itself was unremarkable from the outside: it was an old fabric shop. The window display had a decrepit mannequin with a 1800's muggle dress; different fabrics were displayed, all with visible moth bites.

I stood by for a moment, gathering my courage before knocking on the door. The street behind me was busy with muggles shopping and walking by, but not one of them paid attention to the little odd shop, which was hidden on the side of an alleyway.

"Welcome to Witch Weekly Central. Visitor, please identify yourself," a voice spoke out of the keyhole startling me.

"Elizabeth Montieth," I said, trying not to stumble over my words. "I am here to see Kathryn Wotton, from the fashion department."

I watched the keyhole blink, before the door opened. I put one foot in, feeling my body tingling all over. "Visitor, please proceed to level 5. Kathryn Wotton has been informed of your arrival and is expecting you." With a little squeal I walked in, and the door shut behind me.

A young witch sat in the reception desk; there was a large bay window behind her and an even larger fireplace on the other side of the room. A white round carpet covered most of the wooden floor. It looked soft and inviting, and I wanted to lay down on it and take a kip. "Good afternoon," the witch said with a smile. She had a badge in her hand which was extended. I took it from her and read what it said.

 _Elizabeth Montieth, job interview, 5_ _th_ _floor._

I suppressed another squeal. "Thank you."

"The stairs are on your right," she said pointing to an archway that was flanked by two statues of nymphs. "Good luck."

I took the stairs one at a time, reminding myself that now was not the time to stare. The whole building seemed full of fairy dust. There were photographs of models, old cover issues, and several original pieces of art scattered throughout the walls. The stairs were made of marble, and the handrail looked to be covered in gold. All around me, wizards and witches scurried around; some carrying stacks of parchment, new robes, or books. When I heard a witch reciting her article out loud to see how it sounded, I knew I had find my perfect job.

"Elizabeth?" Kathyn Wotton was waiting at the top of the stairs on the fifth floor. I took a second before giving her a smile and offering my hand. She took it rather forcefully before beckoning me forward.

Kathryn was wearing a set of oxblood robes on top of a turquoise dress; from the little research I had done before coming in, I knew that both colours were the colours of the season. She opened the glass door that led to her office and invited me in. It was decorated with utmost care, with carefully placed photographs and plants. "Please take a seat," she pointed to a white chair in front of her desk. She sat down on the larger chair against the window. You could almost see the London traffic beneath. "Penelope tells me you are very diligent and have a knack for editing, is that true?"

"Penelope is always so kind," I said, crossing my ankles and tucking them beneath my chair. I took a deep breath before answering Kathryn's next question: why was I applying for an assistant position when I had worked as a writer for some time? "With the war, maintaining my freelance position became challenging, particularly when You-Know-Who overturned the ministry's authority. The political climate was not welcoming enough to warrant a return to England."  
Kathryn nodded, but her eyes were focused on the piece of parchment in her hands rather than on me. "So tell me, Elizabeth, how do you like your tea?"

oOo

Every day the weather got colder and windier; I had to walk over to Flint's with my hair in a tight bun to keep it from turning into a premature bird's nest. Gwen told me that St. Mungo's was flooded with a new strain of the common cold that no amount of Grand Pepperup Potion could cure. She was working extra hours, as several of the healers had fallen victim. It looked as though winter wanted to arrive early that year.

What wasn't arriving early were the results from my interview with Kahtryn. I met with Penelope a few days after, and she assured me that I had made a good impression, but two weeks had passed in complete silence. Meanwhile, Flint was making my life the dictionary definition of hell.

That Thursday he had sent me a bleeding howler ordering me apparated to court with the stack of parchments he had left on his desk, which turned out not to be all the things he needed. When I arrived at court (which is quite intimidating) I had an encounter with the magical lawyer defending Flint's client ex-husband.

Lovely chap; good looking too. Except that the moment I walk by him, he tried to grab my arse. "Tell Flint we may just reach an agreement," he said with a wink. If my hands hadn't been full of parchments, he would be joining Gwen's patients but with far more durable injuries.

Flint didn't even give me a 'thank you.' He seized the stacks of parchments off of my hands and turned his back on me. I heard the other lawyer walk into the courtroom with a whistle. I turned on my heel, walked past him, extending my leg so he would trip on it; smirked when it happened, and stormed out.

That was just the bleeding cherry on top of a really bad set of two weeks. I apparated back at the office, scribbled a large "I Quit" followed by "I'll see you on Monday," and left submerged in self-hatred.

I bought a large cake from a nearby muggle store, planning on spending the rest of the weekend eating it in front of the telly.

Of course, someone had beat me to it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Bummed

"Aren't you supposed to be training?" I asked by way of hello. Oliver looked over his shoulder; he was wearing a large wool blanket over his shoulders and his cheeks were pretty red. Daisy was asleep at his feet, snoring. "Pepperup potion?" I walked by him towards the kitchen to put the cake on the countertop. It was a chocolate cake, something which I didn't indulge in often, but which I knew all three blokes would devour in minutes.

"Amy caught me sniffling around noon," his voice was low and hoarse; he reached forward to grab the remote and pause the movie he was watching. It amazed me how a muggle contraption had wiggled its way into pureblood's life in a matter of a few months. I could barely go a week without catching on some of my favorite shows, and Adrian was obsessed with muggle football. "She sent me home with a large dose of potion with strict instructions that I wouldn't return to the pitch until I was better."

I removed the cake from the container, and watched as Oliver's attention shifted towards it. "I don't think Amy would agree with you eating cake in the state you are," his lower lip dropped into a pout and I smirked.

"She didn't explicitly forbid it."

"Mmmh," I muttered, searching through the cabinets for two plates and spoons. His smile brightened when I carried them over to the telly. "I you do feel sick after, I'm not to blame."

"There's some hot water left in the kettle," he said grabbing his plate and sitting back on the couch. Up close, his skin looked shiny as if it had recently been covered with sweat. That could be either a side effect of the Pepperup potion or a worsening fever. I placed my hand on his forehead; his brown eyes traveled up my arms towards my face.

"You are a little warm," I pulled my hand away as if his forehead was burning and made my way back towards the kitchen. The Quidditch season had just started, although Puddlemere wouldn't play until next week when they would play the Tornados. I knew that Oliver was their sole keeper; their reserve hadn't survived the Battle. "I'll make some tea."

Oliver smiled and took spoonful of cake. "Why are you home so early?" he asked, still chewing.

I recoiled. Disgusting. "Flint," I muttered, placing the tea on the oven and lighting it with my wand, facing anywhere but at Oliver. "Wanker will be the death of me."

I heard Oliver choke with a piece of cake, but didn't bother to turn. "What'd he do this time?"  
I shrugged, and increased the heat. "He's alive and my boss, isn't that enough?" Merlin, not marrying him was a good call.

"Nothing new then?"

"Nah," the kettle whistled and I turned off the heat. I opened the cupboard where Corey stored his expensive loose teas in aluminum tins and took two out at random. I dropped the tea bags in the mugs and waited for them to brew. I placed my elbows on the counter and leaned my head on my hands. Oliver had turned back towards the telly. "What are you watching?"

He answered without looking over. "A movie Corey recommended, best thing in muggle cinema he reckons," I saw a young couple running around in what looked like a rather large ship. They seemed to be chased by someone. "He thought it may cheer me up."  
"What's it called?"  
"Titanic." I took the two steaming mugs over to where Oliver was sitting. The two people from the movie were hiding amongst cars. I paced my mug on the coffee table next to my cake, and offered Oliver's his. His hands brushed against mine and I resisted the urge to look into his eyes; I could feel him watching me, so I grabbed my cake to distract myself. "What's the movie about?"

"A high society girl is being forced to marry a blighter, but she falls in love with a low class bloke she met on the ship."

It was my turn to almost choke on the cake. Was he being serious? "What is happening now?"

"They are having sex," I saw him smirk out of the corner of my eyes. I turned my attention to the screen, where sure enough I saw a hand smearing a foggy window. My cheek heated up to the same temperature as my tea, and I became unbearably aware of the warmth emanating from the body beside me, particularly the ears. Deciding it was probably safer to continue watching the movie in silence, I munched on my cake not really tasting the chocolate.

"Why did Corey reckon this would cheer you up?" I asked, still licking my spoon. After the embarrassing experience of watching intimacy on the telly with Oliver, the ship had proceeded to bump into an iceberg and everyone was now panicking. Oliver had to explain to me that no, they couldn't just use magic to repair the ship because there probably weren't enough wizards on it.

Oliver shrugged. "He has a barmy sense of humor?"

"I meant, why do you need cheering up?" I asked as Rose was being lowered in a smaller boat, while Jack looked on. When she jumped off of her lifesaver and back onto the sinking ship I couldn't help snorting. "Bloody Gryffindor, that one."  
"Of course, you Slytherin's would be pushing old folk and children out of the way in your race to the boats."

"Stereotypical much?" I rolled my eyes and faced him. He was looking straight ahead. I neighed like a horse and scooped my legs towards my chest, eyeing Oliver carefully from time to time. I couldn't get used to the invisible wall that was a constant companion whenever we spoke. Although, this was the first time we were alone for a prolonged period of time since the party. Conversation used to flow so easily between us, especially when it was sprinkled with insults; now it was as if a bunch of beaver had built a dam stifling the flow.

The movie got sadder and sadder as the ship continued to sink. I even caught myself smuggling a tear off of my eye. I think Oliver saw, for he put an arm around my shoulders and pushed me closer to him. I let my head rest on his shoulder and watched. "I still think she should have shared," I said after the movie was over. "That door was big enough for two."

"I think it has something to do with the physics of being on water," Oliver said, shrugging his arm off of my shoulder. I took the unspoken hint and retreated back to the corner of the sofa. "Or perhaps they chose to end the movie then, at the height of the romance instead of showing how it would fall apart later on."

"Aren't you all butterbeer and chocolate frogs," I commented, pulling my legs up to put some distance between us. Oliver looked sidewise before he collapsed his upper body on top of his knees, holding himself up with his forearms on top of his thighs. I leaned in and touched his arm. "Are you feeling sick?"

"Sarah."  
"We can go to St. Mungo's, keep Gwen company."

When Oliver looked at me, I was as warm as I was cold. He held my gaze for a moment; the muscles on his face were relaxed, but his eyes burned through me. "We need to talk."

I arched an eyebrow. "Oliver, we need to first be together before you are allowed to use that phrase."

I thought my attempt at humour would at least earn me a small chuckle, but all it did was make him recoil away from me. "That's kind of what I need to talk to you about."

With a sigh, I moved my hand away from him and sat on the far edge to give him space. I motioned for him to continue. "The other night, at the party, I was-"

"Over the eight?" I asked, feeling an invisible hand constrict my heart. Just what my poor ego needed: to hear he had been drunk when we almost kissed.

"-lonely." Well, psht, that was worse. "I mean, blimey; I'm only twenty-three and already _divorced_. I don't know what Adrian and Luke were thinking, but celebrating my singlehood was not what I wanted to do."

"Why have a good night when you can go sulk in your room?" Oliver sat up and scratched the back of his neck.

"I am not ready to start anything with anyone, Sarah," he said doing his best to avoid my eyes. I was gripping a pillow hard enough to turn my knuckles white. "With us is all or nothing, and I am not whole meself at the moment."

I rolled my eyes and got up, grabbed the dirty dishes and walked over to the sink. "You are overthinking this."  
"Am I?" I didn't noticed he had followed me and was standing half an inch away from me, close enough that I could feel his chest. I choked on my own breath and Oliver took a step sidewise. The dog woke up and barked.

When I looked into his eyes, I thought my own heart would break. There was no more maniac glint, no more obsessive drive; just a brown hole full of pain. "I was really pissed that night, actually," I lied taking a step backwards and opening the faucet. I began cleaning the dishes without a sponge. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, I don't really fancy picking up where we left off."

Oliver smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you."

I tried to smile back. "Go rest, you're playing the Tornados in a week; you'll need your strength." I watched his retreating figure and released a breath I didn't know I was holding. The sink had almost overflown with water. I dumped the cup in it and turned the faucet off before drying my hands with one of Corey's embroidered towel.

I leaned against the countertop to allow my heart to race in peace. I should have guesses Oliver didn't mean anything by that almost-kiss; I slapped my forehead. How could I be so stupid? He had married another bird (and divorced her), what were the chances he still had leftover feelings for me after all this time? I should have used the opportunity I had with him while I still could instead of letting it flutter away.

" _You may not like new Oliver."_

I sighed and turned around to finish cleaning up. It was getting dark and the other two would be here soon. I didn't want to have to explain to Adrian why I was letting my arse get wet from the dripping sink.

"I don't want to pick up where we left," I whispered, my voice drowned by the sound of the water. It brought back memories. "Because I don't want to find out we can't."

oOo

I could barely contain my excitement. Beside me, dressed in royal blue robes, Gwen kept flashing smiles and laughing. The dark circles beneath her eyes that I had come to associate with being a healer-in-training for gone for once. "I got one of the other trainees who I reckon is half in love with me to cover me this weekend. Poor bugger, I got an owl this morning saying they were out of capacity with the new flu cases," she shook her head without erasing her large smile.

I clapped her shoulder and tightened my new Puddlemere scarf around my neck. It was only two in the afternoon, but it was already getting chilly and I had chosen to wear only Adrian's old Quidditch jumper. Today was Puddlemere's first game of the season against the Tornados. Adrian had given us two prime seat tickets in Puddlemere's booth.

Gwen and I had to wake up at five that morning to catch a Portkey to the Tornado's stadium. The village of Tutshill was a quaint little thing that hadn't modernized itself since the mid 1600's. The stadium was located in the outskirts of the village, near a river. It was tricky business finding it, because you had to find a large oak tree with two miniature 'TT's craved in it; between the two T's there was a small hole, only large enough to fit a finger. When you put your finger in it, it would suck you into the stadium like a tornado.

"It says here the stadium is one of the quirkiest there is," Gwen was reading off a pamphlet while we waited in line to hand in our tickets. "Apparently, it is quite moody and prone to creating random violent gusts of wind if the team is losing."

"What does it do if they are winning?"

"It like to knock the opposing team fan's hats off." We had reached the end of the line. I handed our tickets to the bored looking little old wizard who directed us to go straight upstairs till the end on our right and ignore the whispered insults. Apparently the local wind was a very big supporter of the Tornadoes.

We climbed our way up while Gwen continued to recite random facts she was reading. "It seats only 2500 people, that's tiny," she said when we were halfway up. "According to this it is to enhance the acoustics of the place- and so the opposite team can better hear the threats by the local fans."

"Gwen, I finally understand why you were sorted into Ravenclaw," I threw her a mocking grin which she didn't see. We had reached our seats, and I had to admit, Adrian had done quite well. Everyone who was someone at Puddlemere was at this booth (the opposing team only got one quarter of the seats according to Gwen). "Is that Jocelind Wadcock?"

A woman in her late thirties sat in the front row, a three year old girl balanced on her knee. After Gwenog Jones, Jocelind Wadcock was the fiercest female Quidditch player in the last decade. She had left Puddlemere United in the early '90s to start a family. "And that is their manager, Philbert Deverill," Gwen pointed to a balding man with a large stomach talking loudly to some people in the corner. He kept petting his belly as if it were a cat. I had heard that Puddlemere's new manager, who had taken over during the war, was large. What I hadn't heard, was that he made a baby whale look small.

He was laughing loudly when he turned around and saw us. "Beautiful ladies!" his voice boomed in my ears; he waved his chubby hands to beckon us forward. "Join us, join us! The more the merrier!"

I exchanged a look with Gwen who shrugged her shoulders and walked forward. "It is always good to see young fans coming to support our team," he shook both of our hands. I was surprised by how smooth his hands were, and briefly wondered what kinds of care products he used. My job required me to manage so many parchments that my hand's texture resembled them. "Ah, I see you have already bought our newest jumper. I must say, changing the team's color to royal blue was simply a stroke of genius, was it not?" He winked at Gwen and pulled her in to give her a side-hug. I had to contain my laugh as my little cousin pleaded rescue with her eyes. This was revenge for torturing me with Tutshill Tornados trivia.

"And what would you names be, beautiful ladies?"

"Elizabeth Montieth and Gwendolyn Oakley," I said, pulling on Gwen's sleeve to bring her closer to me. Her face had turned a disquieting shade of purple. "We are friends with Ad-"

"Adrian Pucey, Oliver Wood, and Corey Withers!" Mr. Deverill yelled at the top of his lungs. His raucous laughter made me cringe, and this time I couldn't escape his hug. My nose was ticked awkwardly almost beneath his armpit. Gwen giggled, having escaped the death trap.

Bugger.

"Yes, yes, yes, I have heard wonderful things about you, simply wonderful," he squeezed me tighter, almost collapsing my larynx. "Which one of you is the promising young healer?" Gwen smiled sheepishly and Mr. Deverill let go of me to hold her arms. "Corey absolutely _adores_ you, which is quite surprising if you get my meaning. Now, don't you break his heart, missy, he has a good one."

It took the announcement of the beginning of the game for Mr. Deverill to stop fussing over Gwen. He had remarked on her doll-like features, the softness of her golden curls, and how the pitch of her voice. "Welcome to the second match in the 1998 League Championship!" the commentator was located on the other side of the pitch, close to the Tornados' keeper, so I couldn't see him. Mr. Deverill had insisted we discard our seats (which were on the back row) and sit next to him, so he could keep us informed of how the game was progressing. I had snorted at that, since clearly being a non-player female meant we didn't understand squat about sports…. But since sitting next to Mr. Deverill meant having better seats (and a picture perfect view of Oliver's behind once he flew up to the goals), I contained my feminist rant.

"Tonight, facing each other for the first time in two years, here in the magnificent Tornado Stadium, we have the Tutshill Tornadoes and Puddlemere united!" the stadium erupted in cheers as people stood up to shout their team's slogans. "Before commencing, a few words from the Tornado's manager, Mr. Cornelius Malkin!"

Almost every person in the stadium stood up with a waving flags; the stadium was suddenly colored like a blue summer sky, with sprinkles of royal blue. "Welcome, welcome to what shall be a most exhilarating match!" The sound levels were threatening to burst my ears. Beside me, Mr. Deverill was chatting as if noting were happening. "As you all know, the Quidditch League reopened last week with a most astounding match between the Ballycastle Bats and the Montrose Magpies. Many teams have had to hustle their players as newer blood enters the ranks of professional Quidditch."

"Interesting fact actually," Mr. Deverill said over the uproar of cheers. "Due to the war, most teams lost a fair proportion of their players; Puddlemere of course lost its seeker and a few reserves, God keep them, and have had to replace them with younger or less experienced players. I believe it is the first time in the fateful plague that most players don't reach over 30!"

"So please, follow me in a minute of silence to commemorate the fallen ones," my attention was brought up to what was happening with the sudden death of noise. People around me were lowering their heads, everyone remembering loved ones. It had never occurred to me that several of Puddlemere's players seemed to be around our age. Corey was only a year older than Gwen.

A large blackboard appeared on the other end of the stadium. It read TORNADOS: ZERO PUDDLEMERE: ZERO. "And now, without further ado I give you the Tutshill Tornados! I give you Moonshine! Knutsen! Twycross! Birch! Hanley! Finwich! Aaaaand Plumptom!" More cheers erupted as seven players clad in light blue robes soared into the pitch. They did a round of the stadium before taking their place at the opposite end of the pitch.

"And now please greet-Puddlemere United!" Gwen and I jumped to our feet to cheer for our team as they were being announced. "Gruffiths, Bradley, Pucey, Twiddle, Brocklehurts, Wood aaand Withers!" I clapped and shouted while the seven players clad in dark blue robes zoomed into our side of the stadium. "And there goes the quaffle, caught by Tornado chaser Moonshine, Moonshine to Twycross, intercepted by Bradley who passes to Griffiths-"

"That was a good choice," Mr. Deverill said with a clap as Wilda Griffiths passed to Adrian who almost dropped it trying to avoid a bludger to the gut. "She played for the Holyhead Harpies first, of course, but they kept her on reserve for too long. We offered her an immediate position, and look at her now! Captain of Puddlemere United-" the rest of Mr. Deverill's speech was cut short by an upcoming Tornado chaser. I grabbed Gwen's omniculars from her and focused them on Oliver. He was hovering around the central goal; I tweaked the zoom dial to see his face.

Oliver had always looked handsome when concentrated; his bushy eyebrows were narrowed over his eyes. "Moonshine to Knutsen, back to Moonshine back to Knutsen back to –hoho! Quaffle to Twycross, Twycross avoids a well sent-bludger passes to Knutsen and-" I was holding the omniculars so hard against my eyes they were hurting. I bit my lip and waited for a heartbeat then – "Keep Wood saves, passes Quaffle to Pucey!"

I let go a breath as everyone around me cheered. "Then again, that one was a fantastic recruit, pity all the problems he's been having in his life lately what with his mother and now his wife…"

I pulled the omniculars out of my eye sockets and stole a look towards Gwen. She too had caught up with Mr. Deverill's reference. Feeling a bit like a deflated balloon, I passed the omniculars back to Gwen and sat down. Mrs. Wood had been yet another casualty of the war; unlike my aunt who had been hunt down by the Death Eaters for being an outspoken pureblood, Mrs. Wood had been shopping in Diagon Alley at the wrong time.

"And Pucey scores! Puddlemere in the lead 10-0!"

I stood up with everyone else to celebrate; I even hugged Mr. Deverill. But my eyes and thoughts were focused on the lone figure guarding the posts. How much heartache was Oliver really carrying around?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Asked

After squashing the Tornadoes like turnip, Adrian and Corey invited the entire team to our flat to celebrate. When those two had gone out and bought half a pub's worth of alcohol, I didn't know. The match had lasted three hours; three gruelling hours of watching Adrian get hit with a bludger, Oliver do acrobatics to save the quaffle, and Corey almost break his neck to catch the snitch.

But catch the snitch he did! After Adrian's first game, Puddlemere dominated the field. The Tornados only got three shots past Oliver's defense, while Puddlemere's chaser scored thirteen. All in the first hour and a half. It took the seekers another hour and a half to catch the sodding snitch, a period of time during which a lot of fouls were committed but no team scored.

It was draining.

Mr. Deverill had ushered us down to the pitch after the match was won. His puffy face was red and he had lost his voice through yelling so much. However, as each team member flew down he had congratulatory words and pats to give to everyone. Even the healer, who had been seated on ground level, got a pat in the back. He was halfway through inviting everyone over to his mansion for a round of venison when the coach Maude Capulet, a stern looking redhead who had been one of Puddlemere's best chasers, told everyone to hit the showers.

Gwen and I were left chatting with Amy who was waiting to see Adrian and Evelyn for two nasty bludger hits they had received. As they were both in the healing field, they hit it off. As for me, I stood around kicking grass and waiting for everyone to come out.

"She screamed worse than a bleeding banshee, thought I was gonna die of the pain," I elbowed Adrian in a gut and he spit some of his drink. He had been retelling embarrassing Hogwart's stories to Luke for the past _hour_. And what was worse, I was stuck sitting between the two of them being sport while the stupid healer and Oliver got cosy in the kitchen.

Amy had pulled him there about twenty minutes ago, and no matter how much I tried to see over Adrian's head I couldn't see anything without standing up. The lights were off and I was drunk.

"Her quilt had moved right up to-" I put my hand on Adrian's mouth to shut him up. Luke roared in laughter and I blushed. He put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed.

"Here, here, love," his breath smelled of firewhiskey and chips; his hand was warm and I wanted to feel butterflies in my belly when his stubbed chin rubbed against my forehead, but I didn't. "I can give you private flying lessons, if you catch me," he winked at me and I gave him a wry smile. Adrian was still choking on his laughter.

I searched the room for Gwen in vain. Owen was passed out on the other sofa, while Evelyn and Wilda played exploding snap. "No need, Adrian taught me in seventh year. Didn't you pumpkin?" I squeezed Adrian's cheeks and stood up, pulling on my skirt so it wouldn't ride up. Luke said something that threw both of them into another laughing fit. I tiptoed around Adrian, grabbed the three empty glasses in the coffee table and walked towards the kitchen with the innocent idea of getting a refill.

Who cares if there was an opened bottle on the table already?

"Have you thought about what you'll do for the Halloween Bash?" that was Amy's voice. I bit my lip and stole a look backwards. Adrian and Luke were doubled over with laughter, while Wilda and Evelyn were facing the other way; Gwen and Corey were nowhere to be found. It appeared it was safe to spy. "I wish I could be there but-"

"You have to go home, I know," I was squatting beneath the makeshift breakfast bar, hiding amongst the three stools. "I reckon I'll be fine; professional Quidditch player and all should help me score a date." My eyes narrowed. What were they talking about? I risked hitting my head against the table but raised myself up enough to be able to see. It made my blood boil.

Amy's back was to me, but her front was much too close to Oliver; he was leaning against the countertop, one hand scratching his head and the other placed on her lower back. She leaned in, took his free hand from him and held it. "I really wanted to go with you."

"It's not every day your cousin gets married."

She kissed his hand and placed it on her waist. "It would help establish us, though; and I hate the thought of you going with someone else."

My little toes were dying from the combined pressure of my awkward squat and the shaking that had overtaken my body. _It would help establish us?_ What us? Oliver signed a divorce less than a ruddy month ago!

"Amy," he said while I was about to explode. "That night…"

She placed a finger on his lips and kissed him lightly. I no longer felt the blood flowing to my lower appendages. "I know what you are going to say, Ollie," I fake vomited. Hadn't he learned to stay away from girls that called him that? They meant trouble. "You were drunk, lonely, you are younger, and we work together. But-"

"I don't want to create trouble for either of us."

She laughed. "You know Maud doesn't care. Owen and Evelyn have been on and off since they signed on and it has never affected their performance. In fact, I think they play better because of it."

"We are not a team, Amy," Oliver sighed. I was screaming in my head for him to push her away and call her a harlot. "Right now is just not a good time."

My heart dropped faster than a dung bomb thrown by the Weasley twins down to the floor. What had he said to me? I am not ready to start anything with anyone, Sarah? Bloody lying wanker. I stood up, my eyes burning and the blood rushing back down to my feet making me momentarily dizzy. He wasn't ready- or he wasn't ready with me, but yes with missy 'take-your-shirt-off- _Ollie-_ so-I-can-use-my-bleeding-Stethoscope.'

I looked down at my hands and was not surprised to see them shaking; soon my legs would follow until the urgent need to cry would consume me. I placed the empty cups which I still had on the table and dabbed at my eye with a finger. Merlin, I thought I was over this…

"You alright?" I looked up, expecting to see Adrian with a look of concern a full cup of Icevodka, but it was Luke.

"Eyelash got in my eye."

He laughed. "Is that what you kids are calling it these days?" his hand reached to put a piece of hair behind my ear, but I pushed it back.

"Where is Adrian?"

He shrugged. "He stormed into Corey's room a moment ago and started yelling. Your cousin throws some wicked insults." I raised an eyebrow but decided it was probably better not to find out. Adrian drunk and Gwen angry was simply not what I wanted to deal with.

"I'm going to bed," I walked by past him but he caught my wrist.

"Alone?" he said with a suggestive wink and a light kiss on my cheek. I looked back towards the kitchen. Oliver and Amy were still there, probably snogging for all I knew. I looked back t Luke, who was staring at me with childlike excitement.

"Aren't you a clever one?"

oOo

"The first thing you need to know about Kathryn, is that she is very peculiar about her tea," Alice Small, a short brunette with big, brown eyes, recited as she marched just one step ahead of me. The fifth floor of Witch Weekly's headquarters was bigger than what I had seen during my interview a few weeks ago. The fashion department took up the entire floor, which was about as simple to navigate as Hogwarts during your first week. The walls were plastered with paintings and portraits, all of them commenting that I needed to lose a pound or two. "It needs just a sprinkle of honey, no sugar, and you must stir it clockwise, otherwise she'll tell you it is not properly done. Also, only use the organic brew because-"

I tried to listen to all the minutia instructions about my new boss' tea tastes, but the sights around me kept me distracted. Women, and men, in the most colorful and expensive robes rushed by us after waving hello. Alice wouldn't stop her rambling and only nodded, waved, or smile. I had an inkling those she waved to were highest up. Some witches carried trays of tea and biscuits while others levitated mannequins and piles of robes or fabric. The floor was buzzing with activity, and so was I.

After waiting for ten excruciating days, I had receiving a majestic white owl with Kathryn Wotton's offer of employment to begin in October. Today was my first day on the job, which I understood would be a combination of administrative duties with the chance of doing some editing and proofreading, and I was exploding with excitement.

Witch Weekly! I sighed, and Alice threw me an odd look. I was here at last.

Alice, as I understood, had my job until recently before being promoted to bookings assistant when Kathryn's old senior assistant got promoted to copy editor of the business section. Her job consisted of booking the appropriate models, photographers, and miscellaneous equipment. Since the war, Witch Weekly had fallen under new management. The editor in chief, Miranda Winterstorm, had created a new section titled News and Business, where highlights of the month's political news as well as money-saving tips stole two pages of the fashion spread. Penelope had told me that rumours were abounding at the magazine that Mrs. Winterstorm wanted to expand the editorial section to include columns that talked about current events, philosophy, and things of higher calibre than the gossip section. In a recent interview with the Daily Prophet, Mrs. Winterstorm had stated that she wanted Witch Weekly to broaden its horizons and prove that women's interests went beyond petticoats.

I had made it my mission to get on board with this revolutionizing change. And with that in mind, I turned my attention back to Alice as she explained where to buy Kathryn's scones.

Thankfully, the rest of my day wasn't as mind-numbing. Kathryn involved me in several aspects of her routine. As the department editor, she oversaw the day to day functioning of the Fashion department, such as weather a sample had arrived or not. She gathered materials and assignments, read pitches by freelance writers, and reported back to the creative editor and the fashion editor on what should appear in the next issue.

"So tell me, Eliza," she said during lunch. Kathryn liked to take lunch in an indoor patio found on the eighth floor. The ninth floor was where the higher level manager's and editor's offices were. The eighth floor was charmed to look just like you were outside; it was a quaint garden with several white tables scattered around. Kathryn's entire entourage consisted of Alice, the copy editor, the style & accessories director and her assistant. The market team, director and assistant, were excluded since apparently no one liked them. "You dream is to become an editor, or was it a writer? I forgot already!"

I wiped my mouth with a napkin before answering. "I tried writing and didn't find it to my liking. Freelance writing at least; I enjoyed column writing while I was at Transfiguration Today."

"That must have been such a bore," she said before digging her fork into a piece of unseasoned lettuce. The other thing I had learned was that Adrian's roast beef sandwiches were a big no-no. "I can't imagine the kind of dull things you must have been made to write about! Top ten wand movements to better transfigure your things: How to redecorate in a shoestring budget!"

Everyone laughed. I cracked a smile. The truth was, I had _loved_ Transfiguration Today. I was probably one of the youngest employees, but everyone had so much knowledge and experience. Plus I got to do something I enjoyed. Looking around the people who were sitting with me, I wasn't certain I would end up making friends with them. But the end justifies the means, right?

When we returned from lunch, there was a large bouquet of flowers waiting on my desk. Kathryn sauntered over it and grabbed the card. "Stupid delivery boy must have mistaken the desks," she opened the card to read.

"Who would send you flowers on your very first day? You mum?" Alice laughed and walked over to her desk, which was next to mine. My cheeks heated up but I kept quiet. No point declaring war on the very first day. Instead, I send her a nasty glare and took a seat to begin reading the new employee handbook Kathryn had given me that morning.

I had just opened the large tome when Kathryn's hand landed on it. "How do you know Lucas Bradley?"

"The Puddlemere Chaser?"

"Well, Eliza?" Kathryn was standing akimbo, waving the small card like a dagger. I sighed. He couldn't be that reckless, could he? He told me he was a Ravenclaw!

"Adrian Pucey and I are Hogwarts friends," leave out the fact that we live together, as well as with Oliver and Corey. They don't need to know that. "I met Lucas at a party after the match on Saturday."

Alice was screeching beside Kathryn faster than a whirlwind. They were jumping up and down and almost hugging. "I knew hiring you was a solid investment!'

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" standing by the door was Primrose Grinderford. Tall, redheaded, and gorgeous, Primrose had been the longest held market director for the fashion department at Witch Weekly. She had been the previous director in chiefs, Horatio Golpalott, mistress and yet had not managed to advance to upper management.

Kathryn waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing that would interest you terribly, Rose. We all know how prim you are," the two women exchanged nasty glares.

"Keep the noise level down then, some of us do actual work."

Kathryn rolled her eyes at Primrose's retreating figure "Trollop." She turned her attention back to me after a heartbeat of hate-filled silence. Her hazel eyes glinted. "Please tell you are on speaking terms with Oliver Wood."

My mouth opened up of its own accord. Alice sniggered. "She fancies herself in love despite the fact that she's almost _thirty_."  
"Twenty-nine," Kathryn replied with a flippant wave of her hand. Her attention was focused on me like an eagle on its prey. "Do you?"

I chewed on my lip. To lie or to advance? "I know him."

Kahtyrn cheered again. She rushed around my desk, her high heels clicking on the wooden floor, and hugged me. "We are going to be best friends!" her blond hair infiltrated my nasal passages, choking me. Over her shoulder, I saw Alice throwing me a sneer before returning to her desk. "Oh, I forgot! Here's your letter! You better say yes, and if you hear that Ollie may need a date, don't hesitate to call me!" she dropped the parchment on my lap and skipped back to her office, closing the door behind her. I could see her dancing around in circles in her office.

I opened the letter.

" _Dear Elizabeth"_ , it read, " _I don't know about you, but I had a wicked time on Saturday night_."

My cheeks blushed. After eavesdropping on Wood and Amy, Lucas and I continued drinking in my room where we fell asleep through giggles and kisses. " _As you know, on Halloween the Quidditch League throws a bash. It's usually a bore, but Maud and_ _Philbert (the old Deverill) insist we have to go. Perhaps you'll do me the favor of making the night worth it?_

 _Love,_

 _Lucas Bradley"_

I placed the letter down and leaned my head against my hand, my elbow resting on the table. What was Lucas playing at? Oh, for Merlin's sake! I shook my head and lightly slapped my cheeks. A gorgeous Quidditch Player, who could compete with me at chess, wanted me to be his date for a sodding elegant Quidditch event and I was considering it? What was there to consider!

I grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink, and scribbled an answer on a stray piece of parchment. I walked out of the room, ignoring Alice's stare, and towards the first floor where I asked the front desk girl to borrow an owl. She took my letter, her eyes bulging at the name of the recipient, and guaranteed me that she'd mail it right away. Then I returned to my office to finish reading that mammoth handbook.

When I arrived to the flat that afternoon, it was to find it flipped over. Gwen and Oliver were sitting in front of the telly drinking tea, while Adrian and Corey shouted at each other from the kitchen. Corey's face looked purple from lack of oxygen, and I wouldn't be surprised if it fell off his neck. "What happened?" Daisy barked and tried to get up to greet me. It was a rather cumbersome procedure, since she liked to nip between the large sofa and the small coffee table and tended to hit her head against the coffee table. I should breach the topic with Oliver, about not keeping large dogs in small flats.

Or the fact that I think she's going deaf. Poor old thing.

Oliver looked up, but Gwen continued watching the telly. "First Adrian took some of Corey's teas, apparently. Then Adrian started complaining about all sort of ridiculous things."

I sat down on the empty one-person sofa. "Like what?'

He shrugged. "Beats me. Something about colognes and fresh laundry. Adrian's been in a right mood since he doesn't have a date for the Halloween Bash."

"I'm going with Corey," My cousin tore her eyes from the telly to grin at me.

"Isn't that in three weeks?" Oliver's eyebrows narrowed but Gwen cut him off mid answer.

"You know how large men's egos can be," she flipped her hair around so it cascaded around her and crossed her arms. "Git can't get over that the younger, more _effeminate_ Puddlemere seeker has an actual girlfriend and he doesn't."

Oliver and I exchanged wry glances. "Who called Corey effeminate?"

"Since when are you two dating?"

Gwen grabbed the remote and switched channels. "Witch Weekly, two issues ago. They made a countdown of most eligible Quidditch bachelors and those they thought were more likely to come out of the broom closet. You got spot number two, Ollie."

He choked. "I'm likely to come out of the closet?'

"No, second most eligible bachelor. You would have gotten first, but you hadn't legally finalized your marriage then so…"

The shouting increased, although I couldn't make a single word out. A moment later, Adrian stormed past us and out of the door. A painting was dislodged after he slammed the door shut. The three of us looked towards the kitchen were Corey was still fuming, with a last banshee-like scream he marched towards his room, finishing the dislodging of the painting.

The silence made my ears ring.

"Well them," Oliver stretched his arms over his head before getting up. "Would you ladies like some tea?"

"I do," Gwen chirped changing the channel again.

"Shouldn't you be consoling your boyfriend?" I asked, pushing my shoe off with my toes and leaning against the sofa to stare at Oliver's back as he boiled water. Gwen changed the channel five more times before turning the telly off for good.

"He's a big boy despite comments to the contrary," she yawned and stood up. "So Oliver, who are _you_ taking to the Halloween Bash?" her blue eyes darted from him to me. Oliver answered without turning around.

"I was going to take Amy, but her cousin's getting married in Hertfordshire."

"On Hallowe'en?" I couldn't help but ask. It just seemed too morbid.

He nodded. "I was actually thinking of asking you, Sarah, if you wanted to come with me. As friends," he hastened to say, "I know you enjoy this sort of thing."

He had finished boiling the water and was now pouring it over three mugs; his eyes were low as if they were avoiding seeing me. I felt like a kidney stone was passing through me at that very moment. So I was going to be his bleeding second option when poor Amy was stuck in the country? If only I could rip his eyeballs out… Oh wait, I had better ammunition. "I can't, I'm going with Luke."

"Luke Bradley?" I watched with a smile on my face as he poured water on his fingers. He almost dropped the kettle before rushing to put his fingers beneath the faucet. Gwen, still standing in the middle of the room, looked at me in awe. "When did he ask you?"

"He sent me flowers to work today," I decided to milk this. Lazily, I got to my feet and sauntered towards the kitchen where Oliver was still cooling his fingers. I grabbed the milk from the fridge and finished making the teas. "I think we hit it off on Saturday, after the game."

I could feel Oliver's eyes burning a hole through my skull. That's what you get, you blooming dunderhead! Gwen rolled her eyes at my immaturity and sat back down. I shot her a winning grin. "Sorry, Oliver," I said before putting sugar in our teas and walking over to my cousin. "I'm afraid I can't go with you as friends."

"That's alright. I'm not too keen on this whole thing after all," I watched him grab his tea and walk out of the kitchen towards his room. I was torn between feeling guilty and dancing the Macarena.

"You know, times like this you really _are_ a bitch."

"I know."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Craven

The night of the Quidditch League's annual Halloween Bash arrived. Gwen and I were getting ready in my room, while the three boys were playing a new muggle videogame Corey had received for his birthday last week. When they weren't training, they were glued to the telly. At least it kept their tempers cooled (well, not Oliver's since his temper was uncharacteristically amiable). Adrian and Corey, on the other hand, seemed to be getting on each other's nerves on an almost daily basis. Whenever a shouting match ensued, Oliver and I would retire to our respective rooms or to mine to play chess and shut the noise up.

Those two were worse than an old married couple.

"Ta-da! Your hair is done, your majesty," Gwen said grinning wickedly at the mirror. She had her own golden curls up for the evening, while my usual dull straight hair hung down with actual waves. I smiled at her and finished applying lipstick before getting up. As it was a Hallowe'en, Gwen had decided to drop her usual beige and pastels and opted for a very daring black dress. "I still have to finish my make up so move." She took her place on the chair in front of my only mirror and began applying eye shadow.

"I'll be outside," I said to which Gwen shot me an odd look. I shrugged my shoulders. This had nothing to do with showing off. I was thirsty, I needed a glass of water.

As predicted, the three blokes were glued to the telly. Oliver sat to one side watching Corey and Adrian battle it out in their videogame. I snorted; if that kept them from being at each other's throats all sodding day then I would stop complaining about the new addition. I walked towards the kitchen and grabbed a glass to fill with water. "Shouldn't you two go pick your dates up? It's almost eight," I asked leaning against the countertop.

Adrian waved his hand distractedly, punching buttons like a madman. Oliver looked at his wristwatch and shrugged. "I still have time," he said without looking my way.

I pouted then reprimanded myself. Over the last couple of days I was having a hard time deciding whether I was going with Luke because he is a gorgeous, funny, and smart bloke or simply to piss Oliver off. The thing was, beyond the first surprise, Oliver really didn't seem to care at all that I was his mate's date- and it bothered me. But it bothered me more because it shouldn't bother me. And because both Gwen and Willow reprimanded me every time I mentioned that it bothered me.

Which is why I stopped mentioning it.

The bell rung, jerking me out of my thoughts. Since no one moved, I had to be the one to open. After all, it was probably Luke anyway. However, when I opened the door I didn't find my handsome Quidditch Player but an eye-turning blond in a low cut blood red dress. "Hello?"

She smiled, giving me a perfect view of her perfect white teeth. They bloody shined. "Is Adrian here?" I opened my mouth and turned to the side to let her pass. I couldn't help checking her out and wondering how many hours in the gym she spend to get an arse that round. The blond walked over to the sofa and hooked her arms around Adrian's neck. "Guess who?"

"Mathilda, love, I'm in the middle of something," he said without turning around to greet her. I shared a look with Oliver who shrugged. It wasn't like Adrian to be a complete arse to women. "Go sit down somewhere, I'm almost done." Mathilda, a big fat smile still adorning her beautiful face, walked over to the makeshift breakfast bar and perched herself on the stool. I couldn't see beneath her skirts, but I was certain she had crossed her legs at the ankles and tucked them to the side.

I shook my head and was going to close the door when a hand stopped me. I looked up and smiled. Luke looked dashing in an elegant set of dark blue robes. "Good evening, beautiful," he said leaning down to kiss my cheek. Behind me, I heard Adrian cheer and Corey complain. "Ready to go?" Luke offered me his arm. I looked over my shoulder. Corey was up and walking towards my room, Oliver was pointedly looking elsewhere and Adrian was still cheering his victory. "Sure. I'll see you lot there." No one replied. With a shrug, I grabbed a hold of Luke's, grabbed my small handbag and walked out of the apartment.

"Cheerful flatmates you have. Who was the supermodel in the corner?" he asked while we walked down the stairs.

"Adrian's date. D'you reckon he got her from a catalogue or something?" Luke laugh's echoed in the old building.

"It wouldn't surprise me; Adrian's always seemed like a Casanova." We exited the building and began strolling down the street. It was chilly outside and I regretted not bringing a proper coat.

"Are we going to walk all the way?" I asked looking down. As the event was formal wear, I had donned a beautiful pair of burgundy heels which would become a deathtrap if I had to walk through cobbled stones in them.

Luke smiled. "Just to that eerie looking alleyway where I can take full advantage of you," I snorted. "Alright fine, where we can apparate." We turned into the alley which was just as eerie as Luke had predicted. It wasn't hard to let the imagination flow. Behind us, children in costumes walked by cheering. I made a mental note to avoid this part of the street at night. "Are you sure you don't want to be taken advantage of?"

I arched an eyebrow and slapped his arm away. Luke looked crestfallen for one second before grinning again. "Your loss. Now hold on tight, my sense of direction isn't perfect and I don't want to get us lost."

"Oh joy." I held to Luke's arms as he scrunched his face in mock concentration. One more slap on his arm and we were twirling at a wild speed. Colors and shapes and sounds sped by us before we landed on solid ground. Luke's eyes looked perturbed and I almost lost my balance.

"Welcome, welcome!" holding onto Luke for support, I saw a wizard beckoning us forward. The building we had arrived to looked nondescript, if you can call a place that is in shambles that. It had three windows, two of which were broken. Neon graffiti shinned from the walls and litter abounded on the steps.

Luke seemed untroubled by the fact that we had just apparated into one of the bad parts of muggle London. He held my hand and sauntered towards the wizard. "Lucas Bradley, Puddlemere United, and his date, Elizabeth Montieth," I had never seen him in a formal situation, and was impressed by the level of authority in his voice. The wizard nodded with emphasis and stepped aside so we could get in.

I was still wondering at how quickly Luke's demeanor had changed when the sound of a ballroom distracted me. I knew that sound well; it was the combination of classical music played by a live band and a large party of people dancing, drinking, and talking. Inside, the slight terrifying façade melted to reveal a most elegant place. A great chandelier hung in the middle of the room; thousands of candles were placed on it and it was the sole source of illumination.

To the side, there was a massive curved staircase leading to a balcony where people were mingling in smaller groups. The dance floor was already filled with twirling couples looking like splashes of dark, rick colors moving to the music. The band was tucked to one side, almost beneath the staircase. The walls were plastered in sophisticated 17th century cream wallpaper. Even the floor shinned tonight.

"Appearances are always a trick," Luke whispered, tickling my ear.

"Especially in the wizarding world," I replied, turning around to smile. My smile, however, soon dimmed. Behind us were Oliver and his date laughing. He had brought Evie's younger sister, whose boyfriend was off in Egypt studying sphinxes' for the year. Like her older sister she was beautiful. She did not have Evie's trademark blond curls, but rich auburn ones which were neatly tucked into an elaborate bun. Oliver caught my eye and they walked over.

"Fancy seeing you at the door," he said, securing his hold of his date's waist. Luke turned around and clapped him on the shoulders.

"Yes, well, we had a small detour in a dark alleyway, what can I say? Looking spiffing, Isabella," he winked and she laughed. I kicked his shin for his comment, missed, and almost tore my dress. Bugger was going to pay for that one.

"Oliver, Luke, Isabella!" Evie in a blinding magenta dress was waving at us from the balcony. Several people had stopped to stare at the bubbly blonde. "Come up here! This is where the real party is at!"

Luke chuckled and after a moment's embarrassment, I did too. Evie's everlasting joyfulness was a nice refresher from the normal dullness I was surrounded with. Not that I would call my life particularly dull. Who can say that when you live with three famous Quidditch players and work at Witch Weekly?

From up the balcony, the ballroom looked even more majestic. I stood near the railing while Luke went to greet everyone else. It was entrancing to watch couples dance from this point of view, where women's dresses resembled dancing umbrellas. "Bored already?" Adrian's voice startled me. He grabbed me by the upper up to keep me from lurching forward. "Because I know I am."

I shot him a disbelieving look. "Whatever happened with your date?"

He shrugged and took a sip from his firewhiskey. "I have the slight suspicion I came with the wrong girl."  
"Intriguing," I nudged him in the stomach. He spilled some of his drink on his shirt. "Learning that a good rack isn't enough to keep you entertained?"

"Not for this kind of event," with his usual creepiness, Adrian walked away towards the group. There were large Versailles-like windows from which the full moon was visible. There was also a decent sized bar with five bartenders. I made a bee line for it and ordered a firewhiskey. After a second thought, I also ordered the grisliest drink in the house for Luke.

"Here you go precious," I forced the pink drink with the umbrella on Luke's unsuspecting hand. He was joking with Owen and Wood, both of whom began laughing. Evie and her sister were talking with another group a few paces away. "Frisky Witch. Your favorite isn't it?"

Luke stared at the martini glass on his hand dumbfounded. The Frisky Witch was complete not only with a delicate white umbrella with lace, but had floating hearts and ribbons, and giggled when stirred. "Even?" he rose his glass for a toast which I agreed on.

"Even."

"Speaking of even," Owen said his speech boisterous and a little bit slurred. The last (and first) time I had seen him drinking he had outdrank the entire Quidditch team within forty-five minutes and had spent the rest of the night sleeping it off. "Perhaps we should move closer towards the other end of the room. I hear the floor is more uniform than here. Me thinks the floor on this part of the room is rather shaky, wouldn't you agree?"

Out of nowhere, Evie jumped on Owen's back, interlocking her arms around his neck. The giant didn't seem to notice. "I concur. The floor is really uneven. Let's move!" and raising her hand like a general in battle, Evie kicked Owen's calves to get him moving. Owen put a massive hand on my shoulder and the other on Wood's, steering us towards the opposite end of the room. I exchanged a glance with Oliver and we burst out laughing.

"Ah, this is much better!' Evie exclaimed after getting off of Owen's back and testing the floor with her shoes.

"Yes, we couldn't stay on that unequally leveled floor much longer…"

"Now we should all stare at the wall!" Evie screeched again, pointing towards the empty wall that was only half a foot away from us. This time I really had to wonder about the pair's sanity.

"Why would we stare at the wa-oh yes, the wall, isn't this wall the most exquisite wall you've ever seen, Lisa? Come, stare with me," Luke grabbed my elbow and turned me around. I tried to work against him, but he put both hands on my waist and forced me to face the wall. It was a nice wallpaper, but it didn't warrant having five people staring at it like we were all about to take a piss.

"What is going on?" I muttered through clenched teeth. Beside me, Owen and Evie had grabbed both of Oliver's arms and were commenting a little too loudly about all the wonderful properties of the wall.

"Just look over my shoulder for a moment," Luke whispered back. I sensed a trap, but curiosity was always a big weakness. Pretending I wanted to hug him, I snaked one hand around his torso, bringing his body closer to mine. "Lisa, if you want me that much-" I stepped on his foot to silence him. My chin reached his shoulder comfortably, and I tried not to let the closeness of his cheek with mine bother me.

"What am I looking for?" the scene in front of me appeared normal: people dancing, people talking, people drinking.

"Red head in blue dress at three o'clock," I used my finger as a pointer while visualizing a clock. Then I followed my finger to find the red head in the blue dress. She was talking serenely with an older couple, her hand resting in the arm of her male companion. I narrowed my eyes to get a clearer imagine. Why did her features look so familiar? "It's Briana, you dimwit. And that bloke must be her new boyfriend; I heard his daddy is one of the owners of the company that produces the Firebolt."

My eyes widened. Wow, that girl knew how to bounce back with style. "Owen, I need to use to loo!" Oliver was laughing like someone was tickling home trying to escape Owen's and Evie's combined grip. Evie's face was red with the effort of keeping her grip on the keeper. When at last, after a very funny struggle, Oliver managed to free himself; he took two steps forward and stopped dead on his trap.

I knew that five pairs of eyes were watching Briana Cauldwell kiss her boyfriend.

I disentangled myself from Luke's arms and walked to where Oliver stood transfixed. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Oliver?"

He shook his head and dropped my hand from his shoulder. "I need to use the loo," he moved forward, leaving me behind with a clenched jaw. I watched him walk past Briana, who didn't notice him, and make his way down the stairs.

Suddenly, I felt like I had been too harsh on him these past few weeks. What right did I have to dangle Luke in front of Oliver like a silly schoolgirl? I thought I had grown up, but clearly I was still acting like a spoiled brat. "I think he's leaving."

I took notice of Luke's words but didn't acknowledge him. I marched through the balcony, and down the stairs. For a moment I lost sight of Oliver's back with the amount of people parading their attires like peacocks. I caught up with him when he had almost reached the exit. He didn't hear me coming, which gave me enough momentum to yank him by the sleeve and push him to the side. "What are you doing?"

I parted our way through the sea of people until we reached the men's loo. I pushed the door open with one hand, and held onto Oliver's robes with the other. There was one bloke using the facilities, but after I yelled at him to leave, that was no longer a problem. I magically locked the door behind us. "You are mental woman."

"And since when are you a coward?" I spun around, marching right to his nose; he walked backwards until I had him cornered against the wall. I poked him in the chest. "Since when do you run away? Merlin, Oliver, where _is_ that Gryffindor courage?"

He brushed his hair back with a hand; I was close enough to him that I was becoming cross-eyes, seeing only the strong outline of his nose. "It's just- I can't face her."

My eyes narrowed and I took a step backwards; all this seeing double was making me dizzy. "And why the bloody hell no? You think you're the only person in that room's whose ill-conceived marriage failed?"

He shot me a look and sighed. His knees buckled and his back slid down the wall until he came to sit on the floor. I stayed up; no way in hell I was getting my dress dirty – it cost a blooming fortune. "I guess not-"

"Of course not. What are you going to do when you play the Harpies in three weeks? Fly to the other goal post so you don't have to face her?" His head came to rest on his elbows, resting on his knees. My breathing was exhilarated and I could feel my heart beating hard against my chest. "Oliver?"

"I never expected it to be so hard," he sounded heartbroken. For a moment I considered taking a seat next to him and hugging him. Then I remembered the price tag. Instead, I squatted in front of him, ignoring the complaints of my toes, and cupped his cheek with my hand.  
"I know it's hard."  
"And she's parading that stupid bloke all over the place-"  
I smiled. "When Terrence and I broke up, I had to see him every day for two months knowing that the slimy bastard had cheated on me. And knowing half of my year knew it too," I recalled with bitterness. My eyes trailed towards the ceiling for a moment.

"I didn't know he cheated," I lowered my eyes. Oliver was now looking at me, brown eyes glazed with water and a hint of anger. I pinched his cheek.

"It gets easier with time," I said coming to stand up and wobbling a bit. Stupid shoes. "One day you'll be able to see her without wanting to gauge your eyes out. But you can't let her continue to hurt you like this. You're stronger than that."

Oliver exhaled. He crossed his legs at the ankles to push himself upwards without needing to hold onto the wall for support. His cheek was red where I had pinched it. "Thank you," he walked over me and placed his arms on my back. My breath caught in my throat and I was immobile. Then, understanding, I relaxed and put my arms around his neck. "Sometimes I think Daisy is the only woman for me."

I laughed and gently pulled away. "Where is that best anyway? Now that you mention it, I haven't had to clean her hair off of my robes for a few days now."

"I took her to dad's. She had some stomach problems a couple of months ago that almost killed her. I thought maybe having some extra space to move would help her."

"Ah common sense, how nice to hear you," I slapped his shoulder with a smile and turned around. We walked out of the loo after he had washed his face with water. Thankfully, everyone at the party was sufficiently drunk that no one noticed us. Unfortunately, the placed was so packed finding our respective dates was going to be a scavenger hunt. "What is going on between you and Luke, if you don't mind me asking." Oliver said after we decided to get a drink before continuing searching.

I took a sip of my own Frisky Witch before answering. "Nothing really. It was just a silly thing."

"Oh? He's a good bloke."

I shrugged. "I know, but I don't think I can be serious."

Oliver spied Isabella a few feet away from us. He squeezed my shoulder and walked away, leaving me alone with my drink and my thoughts.

Never a good combination.

I watched the people around me, contemplating. I wasn't serious about Luke because I wasn't even remotely attracted to him. Yes, he was handsome and made me laugh, but there was no chemistry. If I was honest, he reminded me of Terrence: perfect on parchment, but not a good idea regardless. I only hoped he was as much of a jester as I thought and wouldn't take it too seriously.

Someone tapped my shoulder. "Elizabeth?"

Briana Cauldwell was standing with one hand clasping her small handbag. I took one flabbergasted minute to look at her closely. Although we had gone to Hogwarts together I had never actually spoken to her. To me, she was just one of Hufflepuff's best chasers and nothing more. Up close and personal, I could see why Oliver had fallen in love with her. "Briana Cauldwell," I tried to sound haughty, but I think the pink umbrella in my drink took off some effect.

"Is this a bad time? You didn't look like you were busy," the way she spoke made her sound sheepish and Hufflepuff-y. I had to swallow my own venom; this was a diplomatic meeting after all.

"I was trying to find my date," I waved my hand in front of me to signal the packed room. "it's harder than I thought."

She blinked. "I thought you came here with Oliver."  
My ears bristled and my teeth snapped. "No."

She blushed. "I thought – you two are still friends, right? I mean-"

"Get to the point, Cauldwell," I sighed and stirred my cocktail. The giggles coming from my glass unnerved me. Briana looked straight at me; she took in a deep breath.

"I wanted to ask you a favor." I crooked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Let her burn her own ship. "I need you to look after Oliver."

"Like you did?"

"Like I couldn't," she took two steps forward, stopping two inches away from me. "I know you must think I'm a bitch-but I couldn't help him, so I had to end it."

I snorted and took a long sip to put some distance between us. The way her cornflower blue eyes were scorching was intimidating. "I loved him; I left him because I wasn't what he needed. Can you understand that?"

"Slytherin, remember? I don't do selfless."

She cracked a wry smile and took a step backward. "I find that hard to believe. Just promise me you'll be there for him."

My eyes narrowed. "What do you reckon is wrong with him?"

She shook her head, her red curls bouncing around her face. "I don't know. But I have a feeling you'll be able to help him. After all, I don't think he ever got over you."

oOo

It took me a long time to find Luke. When I did, he was sitting with Evie and Owen having a drinking game, all three had Rudolph noses. They asked me to join, dangling their many cocktails and straight liquor bottles in front of me. I yanked Luke by the neck of his robes and forced him to stand up. Amidst Owen's protests, I pushed him through the crowd towards an empty spot. "I'm going home."

Luke massaged his temple. "Tonight didn't turn out how you wanted it to, did it?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't your fault."

He laughed and placed a thumb on my cheek. He traced the contours of it, coming to rest on the corner of my lips. "Luke-"

"Don't sweat it, darling. It would never have worked between us," he placed his lips where his thumb was. I didn't feel anything, not a single current running through my body. I did however, broaden my grin. Luke was already walking back to his companions when he turned back to shout, "I do hope one day you get over me, sweetheart, but I know I am hard to forget!"

I took my hands to my heart and pretended to swoon. Luke laughed and tripped, falling over Evie. Feeling much better, I walked out of the building and apparated in front of my door. I wasn't going to risk that creepy alleyway.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Irritated

November was close to ending; it was unseasonably calm. Other than Adrian and Corey's almost daily arguments broke the monotony of my life. Kathryn was displaying all of her cards to get me to score her a date with Oliver; she even dangled a promotion although I had been working for less than three months.

"The Annual Yule Ball is in a few weeks," she said one day while I helped her organize the photographs for that month's issue. It was a tedious job. We didn't get to choose anything. All I had to do was put the photos into albums and categorize them. Kathryn would then take them to the fashion director, Athena Furmage and her team, and they would decide. "Are you _certain_ he has a date for it?"  
I sighed and avoided her gaze. Apparently, the Annual Quidditch League Yule Ball was an even bigger deal than the Halloween Bash, which I had learned was mostly an excuse to get drunk. The Yule Ball, by comparison, was a charitable event where not only Quidditch Teams were invited. Some of the most important figures in Wizarding society attended as well. It was strictly by invitation only and all proceedings went to the Quidditch for Children foundation, a charity which helped young witches and wizards learn to play Quidditch. "I told you, he is going with someone."

Kathryn rolled her eyes and threw a skewed picture into a garbage bin, which ate it. "That ugly healer?" Oliver and Amy had been caught in Diagon Alley shopping a few days ago; when the press (mostly Witch Weekly) had cornered him, Oliver let it slipped that they would be going together to the Ball. Kathryn had almost torn the article to pieces. "What does he see in her?"

I shrugged and continued working, knowing that Kathryn did not need any help in talking. "She's older than him, isn't she? I think a year younger than me… well, at least once they break up, for they will, they have no business being together, he _could_ look my way if he likes older women. Do you know how serious they are?" I replied that I didn't and left the office in search of spellotape. When I came back, she was still talking to herself.

"Are you invited to the Ball?"

She caught me off guard and I punctured my finger with a pair of scissors. "No," I replied with my finger in my mouth. The lead taste of blood made me shudder. "I didn't get an invitation."

Kathryn arched an eyebrow. "Luke Bradley didn't work out?" I shook my head. She hit me in the arm with a ruler. "Stupid girl. How can you let a bloke like that slip through your fingers? You don't want to end up almost-thirty and single Eliza!"

oOo

I was fumbling trying to find my keys which were stuck amongst some of the debris that had accumulated in my handbag when I heard the barking. I took a second to allow my eyes to roll and continued my futile search. Thankfully, the door opened with a "Back Daisy, shoo," and Corey's blond mop appeared.

"Dog's back I see," I said for way of conversation after Corey noticed he had almost bumped into me. He was carrying a large fabric tote-bag and looked worse for the wear. "Going shopping?"

He passed a hand through his hair, messing it up. His complexion, usually clearer and better cared for than mine, was full of red blots and dried sweat beads. That was unusual. If we had to draw a ranking of vainest person in the flat, it was a tough call between Corey and me, with Adrian a close second. "Yes, well, Christmas is coming up and with the game against Pride of Portee on Saturday I won't have time to buy all the presents."

I nodded with a smile pretending I shared his preoccupation. I clapped him on the shoulder and opened the door. "Don't stress yourself, it's just Christmas," I had one foot inside of the flat, my mind already focused on a warm cup of tea and a new novel I was reading when Corey decided this was a good time to have a heart to heart.

"My parents never got over me being magic, you see?" he leaned against the wall; pieces of old flowery wallpaper fell off on his hair like snowflakes. I sighed, put my foot back out on the corridor and closed the door. Daisy's saliva had come too close to my shoes for comfort. "Mum's big on church, the first time I turned me little sister's dog into a frog she went nutty. Sent me to an religious all boy's school for the next two years."

"What did she do when someone from Hogwarts arrived?"

"Tried to stab them with a stake."

"She does know those are vampires, not wizards right?"

He shrugged. "The second time they came, she tried feeding them garlic, so I don't think so." I chuckled. "She also never forgave me fer running off last year; didn't understand that being muggle born was no longer an option for me."

I looked at Corey in the eye for a moment, sharing an unspoken understanding of the pains of exile. He gave me a wry smile. "No point complaining about it, is there? Besides, it'd be the one night I have to see her…"

I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You can always turn her into a frog." Corey's laugh echoed in the hallway, and even I cracked a small smile. He thanked and walked away with a more confident step. Feeling odd for doing something nice, I entered the apartment with renewed vigor and interest in a cup of tea.

Daisy was waiting by the open door; I had to push her away with my knee to be able to squeeze inside without her running out. It didn't look like there was anyone else in the flat, so I went to my room to put some comfier clothes and proceed with my evening's plan – even if these included a big old dog now.

That Friday, a letter from Willow arrived with the morning's post.

 _I need to get out of the house. We'll go shopping and for supper after work. Be done by 5 and meet me at the Leaky Cauldron._

 _Willow_

Always so charming. With Christmas only three weeks away, and the last match of the season before it resumes in January happening tomorrow (Puddlemere United against Pride of Portee), I knew the flat would be inhabitable. I had discovered that my three flatmates had increasing bad the closer it got to a match. They were ranking second, just a few hundred points short of the Tornados, and their bad humors were making me want to spend as much time away as possible. What with Adrian and Corey having an old-married-couple's row every three minutes over minutia and Oliver hiding in his room with only his dog for company, it wasn't the most hospitable place to be. Especially since the dog was having ever increasing serious stomach problems. Something about too much gas. Oliver had taken her to Magical Menagerie thrice- he even took her to a muggle dog-doctor for a 'second opinion'

So it was with great pleasure that I left the office at five o'clock that evening to meet with Willow, who was already waiting for me at the leaky Cauldron. "You are late."

I looked at my wristwatch. "It's 5:03."

"I said be ready by 5, Elizabeth." I rolled my eyes.

"Are you pregnant again?" Willow huffed and pulled her cozy white scarf tighter around her neck. She turned her back on me and began walking out of the pub and towards Diagon Alley. Thinking that I may as well have stayed home to receive this treatment, I followed her. We walked down the different shops in silence until we reached Gringotts.

"Any idea of what you are going to get? I was thinking of getting Gwen some hand lotions; being a healer is no good for her skin…"

"Why didn't you stop when we were in front of Madam Primpernelle's? Now we have to walk all the way back to the beginning!" resisting the urge to gauge her eyes out with a fork and force them down her throat, I clenched my jaw and smile.

"What do you want to do then?"

Willow's brown eyes narrowed dangerously; I had the impression she was looking at me like her misbehaving daughter. "Why aren't you engaged to Oliver Wood yet?"

Well that took me by surprise. Several witches heard her; they stopped walking and stared. I yanked her arm before she could start demanding grandchildren and pushed her into Rosa Lee Teabag. A small bell chimed above my head when I pushed the white door open. The normally reassuring smell of Earl Grey and scones slapped my nose, but today it wasn't what I wanted to smell. All I really wanted was a pastry I could stuff down Willow's throat to suffocate her.

"Two teas and two chocolate croissants," I yelled at the brunette girl standing by the counter, and dragged Willow through the length of the small shop towards an empty corner table. I pushed her into the chair and sat down in front of her. She glared at me, her hands crossed against her chest, but kept quiet. I disentangled my scarf from my neck, removed some stray snowflakes from my hair, and placed my jacket on the back of the chair. We waited for our order in complete silence.

"What in Salazar's name has your knickers in a twist?" I demanded, breaking the top off of my croissant and crashing it with my teeth. Willow had not moved an inch; her eyes were narrowed to a perfect personification of an eagle. "You either speak or I leave."

She crooked an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?" I held her gaze with my own, refusing to back up. Adrian said I was a stubborn cow; but I was nothing compared to the witch in front of me. After a few tense seconds, she relaxed her shoulder downs and uncrossed her arms. "I am late."

"That explains everything," I muttered, ripping another piece of croissant. She kicked my shin. "You need to explain this better. I thought you wanted a large family…?"

Willow rolled her eyes and for a second I thought I saw unshed tears on the corner of her eyes. She held her cup between both hands and gazed at it. "I was eighteen when I said that. I didn't know how hard it would be."  
"To get pregnant?"

"No, you idiot – to have kids, and a bleeding husband who always leaves the seat up and can't clean after himself. Some days, I think I have two five-year olds living with me," I took a sip of my drink to cover my lack of actual things to say. Willow rolled her eyes, "I don't need advice, Elizabeth. You are worse at it than you were at herbology. I just need you to listen to me bitch and then nod at the appropriate times, do you think you can do that?"

I nodded. "Good, now where were we?"

Willow kept me until close to eleven. In fact, the owners of the place had to kick us out by magic because she refused to go. I had scampered away as fast as I could. Blimey, that woman knows how to complain…

When I got home, Daisy was resting on the sofa while Oliver petted her. "Everything alright?" I asked putting my key sin the ceramic bowl Corey had bought for this purpose. Oliver looked up.

"I took her to the vet today, they said her stomach's acting up. Adrian brewed her a de-gasing potion, but she's just sleeping now.:

I sat down on the coffee table next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Daisy no longer looked like the terrible beast that had mauled several of my favorite shirts over the years. Her fur had lost its natural shine and her energy levels had decreased dramatically; she now slept almost as much as a cat. But there was no telling Oliver that, he was as blind about his dog as he was about Quidditch. "Well, maybe she just needs the rest and in the morning she'll feel better."

"I hope so." Me too.

oOo

The evening of the Yule Ball came by faster than I thought. I was flipping through channels in the telly while Gwen finished getting ready. Adrian had already left. Wanker got another hot and random date; he had been complaining about her since Wednesday.

"Why, if you cannot stand her, are you going with her?" Oliver had snapped after a particularly long discourse on why this woman was insufferable.

Tempers were flying high despite the fact that Puddlemere had defeated Pride of Portee and had ended the season in second place; they had also qualified for the 1999's European Quidditch Cup, which would be played in August. Since the season was over for the holidays, all three of them had been spending more time than usual at home; Corey still dreading seeing his family on Christmas Eve, Adrian was still on his period, and Oliver was fussing over his dog. Nowadays, she slept the entire day on Oliver's bed and we had to coax her to get her to eat or take her for a walk. No one wanted to be the first to say it, but at 18, Daisy had lived an exceptionally long doggy life. I guessed we were all dreading another complication for Oliver's sake.

"Because I can't go stag on the most publicized event of the year!" Adrian said baring his teeth and clutching his fork until his knuckles went white. He banged both hands on the table, making the dishes jump an inch or two.

I grabbed their plates from beneath their noses before they were broken. Thank Merlin Corey was out with Gwen that night, or he would have had a right fit. "We could have gone together, you big twit," I muttered throwing the dishes into the sink and leaving them there. Adrian stared at me dumbfounded; he was still holding onto his eating utensils, but I was no longer concerned they would become a muggle murder weapon.

"Why didn't I think of that?" I rolled my eyes at the memory and changed the channel. For some odd reason, there was never anything good on the telly on Saturday night unless I cared for muggle news. Frustrated, I turned the damn box off and grabbed the latest issue of Witch Weekly which had arrived that morning. I skipped the fashion section and focused on the newer additions. Rumors were abounding that Miranda Winterstorm had convinced the partners to create a section that focused on current events, philosophy, you know, all sorts of things which do not normally belong in a "women's magazine." I snorted and threw it over the sofa.

"Sarah?" still grumpy, I looked over my shoulder towards the corridor. Oliver was arranging a stupid tie around his neck, and I had to admit he looked dashing in dark green robes. "Could you do me a big favor?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Depends," if it involves hitting your date's face with a baseball bat, then yes. Amy had been a smug cow when I last saw her, during Puddlemere's last match. She had kept sending these little smiles my way, and then looking around when I caught her staring. The way she walked with her head held high and her shoulder down to congratulate them on the win was nauseating.

"Could you look after Daisy?" I groaned and buried my head against a pillow, hoping that if I ignored him he'll go away. Except in the early mornings when he went to train (on his own), Oliver had spent the last fourteen days attached to the dog as if by a binding spell. "Please?"  
I opened an eye to stare at his nose. He was much closer than I had anticipated, and I could see all the little specks on his face. I wanted to touch his eyelashes. "I won't spend the evening in your room."

He smiled and backed up. "I'll bring her here, don't worry," I watched him grab his wand from a pocket and aim it at the empty sofa. With a flick of his wand, the sofa was gone and replaced with a small human bed. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. That bloke would be a horrible father; imagine how spoiled the little brats would be? I blushed at the thought and went to the kitchen to try to find something to eat. I could hear him walking back to his room.

There was not much edible in the fridge. It had been bitterly cold for the past couple of days, and no one except of me really ventured out of the flat. Besides, the three of them much preferred ordering muggle food. Deciding on some eggs, I grabbed them and began cooking them the muggle way. Try as I might, I had to admit their oven idea is far more convenient than trying to make the perfect omelet with magic. Whenever I did that, it just tasted like wet parchment.

"Here you go, Daisy, you'll be comfortable and warm," Oliver cooed as he deposited the dog on the makeshift bed. He had carried her from his room like a new bride. I watched him gently caress her ears and head. I almost burned the eggs staring.

"Bugger."

Oliver chuckled and placed a kiss on Daisy's forehead. Her eyelids fluttered open, before she closed them again. It was rather sad to look at her so immobile. I still remembered the days when she liked to knock me down and lick my nose clean of buggers. I grabbed my eggs, filled a glass of water from the tap, and sat crossed legged on the sofa. Oliver was finishing arranging his robes. "You know how to cast a patronous?"

I shot him an angry look. "Yes."

"Do you know how to send them as messengers?"

The hand holding the fork wavered. You could do that? "No."

Oliver sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll have to teach you then," he looked down at his wristwatch and grimaced. "But I'm late to pick Amy up. Promise you'll look after her?"

I rolled my eyes and put the food in my mouth, almost burning my tongue. "We'll survive the night, Oliver. She's harder to wake up than you are," he chuckled, bid me goodbye (kissed the dog again) and walked out. A few minutes later, Gwen came out of my room wearing one of my old dresses, she banged on Corey's room to hurry up (sometimes, he took longer to get dressed than Gwen and I combined) and soon they were gone.

"Well Daisy, seeing as there is nothing worthwhile on the telly, why don't we watch a movie?" I asked, but al she did was snore. Feeling I'd have better luck talking to a painting, I stood up to search through Corey's movie collection. "I'm feeling like something-" I stopped talking when I saw the Titanic case. I smiled to myself and put it aside. I settled for a movie that looked like it was filmed in the Middle Ages and sat back down. Daisy was snoring in her sleep, making small growling noises from time to time which disrupted my viewing.

When that movie ended, and it was past midnight, I grabbed another one and random to continue watching. A part of me wanted to make sure Oliver didn't bring Amy back to the flat; another part of me was still wide awake. I was in the process of changing cassettes when I realised something: the flat was eerily quiet. My palms were numb. The cassette fell to the floor in my hurry to check on the dog. My knee bumped against the corner of the coffee table and I fell down.

Frantically, I searched Daisy's figure with wide open arms. "No, no, no, no," I cried out, pushing myself back to my feet and ignoring the burn in my leg. Where do you check a dog's _pulse_? My hands flew to her nose; it was warm. Small puffs of warm air were coming out from it. My heart skipped a beat and I relaxed. Then I noticed her eyelids, so human like in her sleep, where narrowed down in an unmistakable expression of pain. Her mouth was an inch open, her tongue laboriously keeping her temperature down. I placed my hands on her chest only to feel it rising and lowering with difficulty. My eyes darted back to her face, and my lungs felt squeezed. "No, no, no, no."

I looked around the flat for something that could help. Her chest movements were becoming more erratic, and the small puffs of air coming from her nose were taking longer. "You can't do this, Daisy, you are a strong dog!" did Oliver buy a book on how to magically cure animals? Where the bleeding hell did he put it? "Just hang on, I need to think," but between my racing heart and her incessant sharp breathing I couldn't even remember my own name. Her legs twitched, and a heart wrenching growl escaped her. I couldn't hear her breathing anymore.

"Shit, shit, shit," I scrambled back up to my feet, wrapped my arms around her convulsing form and disapparated.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Crestfallen

My foot slipped on the cold floor; Daisy's weight tipped me over, and I landed on my back. My head hit the floor with a thud. I closed my eyes to the pain, which was showing itself in the form of stars and planets behind my eyelids. It took a moment before I realised, it was the hard overhead lights that I was actually seeing. With a grunt, I cracked my eyelids open and blinked several times.

Then I remembered the large dying dog squeezing the breath out of my lungs. "Are you alright?" I twisted my neck painfully; a young healer-in-training in apricot-orange robe was staring at me, his eyes skipping regularly to Daisy's body.

"Please," I muttered, feeling my ribs crashing in; Daisy's fur was trickling down my throat. "The dog-"

The healer-in-training nodded. "Levicorpus," and I could breathe again. I heaved in air and propped myself up on my arms. Daisy was floating over me, her body an emaciated form. The healer-in-training offered me his hand to get up, but I ignored it and forced myself back up on my feet.

"I need help," I blurted; the healer merely snorted, he floated Daisy over to a corner and was about to let her be when I grabbed his other hand and yanked at him. "No! _She_ needs help!" I shouted pointing at Daisy's still floating form. Even from a distance, I could see her eyelids and whiskers twitch. "She's not breathing right!"

The healer-in-training looked me over with arched eyebrows, then back at the dog. I squeezed his arm and he yelped. "This is a _human_ hospital, we are not-"

I let go of his arm and run towards the front desk, where a small witch with curly hair was staring at us. I hovered over her, "I need a healer."

She laughed a childlike laugh. "For the dog?"

My hands were shaking in fury. Didn't they understand? Daisy could be dying! "Yes!"

"This is a human hospital, we are not-"

"Oh bollocks! A living being is a living being, how much harder can it be?" the witch looked taken back by my outburst. I slammed my fist on her desk, a few pieces of parchment flew. "Is there nobody in this damned place who cares that an innocent is suffering?'

The witch pumped her large chest up. "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"What is going on, Irma?" another voice interrupted her. My head snapped sideways, ready to bite if I was told once more that this was a bleeding _human hospital_. A qualified healer in lime-green robes stood by; he had a large black overcoat on. "Can I help you?" he asked addressing me.

"Healer Sweeting, this woman is barmy she-"

I slammed her desk again to silence her and sprinted towards the newcomer. He didn't pull back when I grabbed the neck of his coat to focus his attention. "Please, Daisy – I don't know- she's in pain-I- _please_ ," there were tears forming in my eyes. He looked at me, then looked sideways to where I reckoned the trainee was still levitating Daisy. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, before I began to sob.

"Cameron, take that dog to room 103, please.

"But Ethan –"

"Now Cameron," two hands gripped my shoulders and gently pulled me back. I still felt queasy, but there was something reassuring in his touch. "Come with me," I nodded and allowed the healer to push me through hallways. When I lifted my eyes to wipe them, I saw the trainee healer walking just ahead of us before turning into a room. The healer's hand left my upper body and he walked around me, and into the room. I took a long breath and followed him.

The trainee had left Daisy on a bed; a small groan escaped her mouth and my lip quivered. The healer removed his coat and left it hanging on the back of a chair. He motioned for the trainee to pass him a stethoscope, and busied himself with listening to Daisy's chest. The trainee was standing in a corner, glaring at me with a mocking smirk.

I brushed my nose with the back of my hand, still feeling like I had been hit with a jelly-leg curse, and looked down to make sure I hadn't. My feet were bare, and I was wearing one of my most incriminating pink pyjamas. Other than cold and woozy, I felt nothing but apprehension. What was I going to tell Oliver? Merlin, he left me in charge of the dog for one bleeding night and-

"Miss?"

My head snapped up. The healer was looking at me with a grim expression. "Wait outside for a few minutes; I want to run some tests. I'll call you," I held his gaze, too numbed to react, before I walked out. There were three uncomfortable looking chairs just a few feet away from the room. I staggered towards one and plopped down. I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a fetal position and don't wake up until Christmas. But I knew what I had to _try_.

I pulled my wand from the front pocket of my shirt, and closed my eyes. What kind of happy memory could I think of? "Expect- Expecto – Expecto Patronum," I opened my eyes; there was a wisp of smoke floating in front of me. I focused on it, seeing the faint outline of ears before it disappeared. A dry sob escaped my throat; I had managed this spell _once_ in Professor Lupin's office. That day it had turned into a beautiful fox. But that day had been _years_ ago. And now, when I needed it most-

"Miss?"

I almost feel of my chair. Pushing my hair out and away from my face I stood up. The healer's face did not betray good news. His almond-shaped eyes were turned down at the outer corners, and his lips seemed to say 'I'm sorry' without needing to speak. "Is the dog yours?'

"Da-Daisy? No, she's –I mean, no, I'm not. No."

He nodded. "I would suggest you bring in Daisy's owner then."

"Is she-?"

His eyes did not avoid mine. "She's in pain. I want to ease her passing but – I cannot in good conscience make the decision. Can you bring her owner?" feeling like I'd much rather jump into a locked cage full of dementors without a wand, I nodded. "Apparate right here; I'm afraid Irma may not let you through otherwise."

I nodded and tightened my grip on my wand. I closed my eyes, visualizing the address of the place where the Yule Ball was being held; Adrian had left it written on a stray piece of parchment the other day. I turned; sound, color, and sight were replaced with the sensation of being unable to breathe; all I could feel was my ribcage contracting against my lungs, my heart. Then my feet landed precariously on a pile of snow.

Not registering the cold, I opened my eyes. A building, not unlike the one in which the Halloween Bash had been held, stood in front of me. A middle-aged looking wizard was smoking outside. "Hello there?" he called out, flicking the smoke from his fingers. I saw it land on the cold ground. "Can I help you?"

I opened my mouth, but couldn't speak. Instead, I run past him, taking the stairs two at a time and burst into the building. I heard him cry out behind me, "You can't go in there! Do you have an invitation?" and I knew he was following me. The entrance parlour was empty and I marched towards a large double French-door. I could hear the music and the chattering just ahead. I had one hand on the door, when someone grabbed my other.

"Let me go!"

"You cannot go in there!" I turned around, my wand hand still clutching the door handle. The middle aged wizard was yanking on my pyjama's sleeve; his round face was red. "Security!"

I managed to pull free of him and push the French doors open, when two burly blokes grabbed me by the elbows, pulling me back. "You don't understand!"

"You'll be in big trouble, missy," one of them bristled. I tried to pull free, but these two were far stronger.

"I need to see Oliver Wood!" I screamed; several people near the door stopped their conversations to stare. All I could hear was buzzing in my ears, as if a bee had been trapped inside my skull. "You need to let me go!"

The two security blokes laughed. I was pushing against them with all the strength I could muster while they were standing still, not even bothering to use force against me, clearly enjoying the spectacle of the crazy lady in pink pyjamas screaming she needed to see Oliver Wood.

"He won't want ter see you," one of them sneered. I stomped his foot with mine, but he only roared with laughter. I could feel the heat rising up. "Yer little twat."

I opened my mouth to scream at him, when a third voice interrupted his laugh. "Lisa?"

My eyes darted forward. Standing by the door, a look of confusion plastered on her face, was my cousin. "Gwen!" I shouted and in a burst of unknown strength, I managed to break free of the two brutes. I run to her and grabbed her shoulders. "You need to call Oliver – It's Daisy – it's St. Mungo's and-" but the security blokes had a hold of me again and pulled me back; one of my shoulders did a nasty crack and I cried out in pain.

"Ye ain't going nowhere, you cunt, other than ter detention facility."

"Gwen!" she nodded, turned on her heel and disappeared behind the door. I ignored the jabs the security guards were throwing at me, and kept fighting not to be kicked out of the building. I needed to stay long enough – Gwen would come back, bloody Ravenclaw brains had to work for something-

"Sarah?" my heart flopped and rose. Oliver, flanked by Gwen and Adrian, was running past the many guests and towards me. I tried to yank my arms out of the security guard's grip, but only succeed in hurting my shoulder more.

"Oliver!"

"Let her go," he was standing a mere foot away from me; the run which would have rendered me breathless did not seem to have any effect on him. "I said let her go."

The two security blokes laughed. "Cant' do- trespassing is illegal, mate. This one will spend the night in-"

"Stupefy." The two fell with a painful thud on the ground. I heard the small, middle aged wizard scream. "Go on then, I don't reckon you're here just to crash the party." I threw Adrian a grateful smile and grabbed a hold of Oliver's arm. I pulled him towards me, ignoring the protest of my shoulder, and turned on the spot.

Once again, every sense was extinguished except for the feel of his body close to mine. I felt nauseated. When I felt my toes touch cold floor, I opened my eyes. Oliver was staring at me with a look of utter bewilderment. "Sarah, what happened? Gwen said-"

"No time," I pulled on his arm and marched forward, almost collapsing against Healer Sweeting who caught me and stabilize me. It took me three tries to open my eyes; my shoulder was burning with pain and I knew I would faint as soon as I could. "He-here; he's Daisy's-" I panted; I felt my body swirl around in a circle, my head was wrapped in fluffy clouds and all throughout I was painfully aware of the throbbing on my shoulder.

"You need rest," I stared at his Adam's apple while he talked; I wanted to reply that I was fine, that I didn't need rest, that I wasn't a bleeding damsel in distress when (much to my chagrin) someone saved me.

"We'll take it from here, Ethan," Gwen's voice sounded like chirping birds early in the morning. I wasn't sure whether that was good or simply eardrum piercing. I wasn't sure what was going on around me, my eyes were still fixated on Healer Sweeting's Adam's apple which was becoming blurred by the second. I wanted to tell Oliver what was happening, to warn him of Daisy's state, to tell him I was sorry I didn't look after her well enough, and then to apologize for being an extra burden.

The next thing I noticed was the smell of raw alcohol. I coughed and pulled away, but there was a hand asserting pressure on my neck. My eyes opened, but they were watered and it took me a few blinks to get the image to clear up. There was a rug beneath my nose, and the smell was coming from it, a feminine hand holding it close. "Gwen?"

"You have fantastic timing, did you know that?" the pressure on my neck subsided and I was able to lift my head up. I did it too fast, because the ascetic white hospital wall in front of me became hazy. A glass of water appeared in my general vision, it took me a moment to remember that I had working hands, and that all I needed was some coordination to grab it.

"What happened?"

"We can tell you what happened after you fainted, but we still don't know what's happening or what happened."

"Do you have to be so bothersome at a time like this, Pucey?" Adrian? I drank the rest of my water, forcing my memory to work. Slowly, images began pouring in. Choosing a movie. Daisy's labored breathing. St. Mungo's. Oliver running towards me flanked by Gwen and Adrian…

"Where's Corey?" I asked once I had finished my water. We were sitting outside of room 103; the door was closed. How much time had passed?

Gwen shrugged and stood up. "He had to leave a little early. How many fingers do you see?"

"Four."  
"Good, no brain damage."

"Where is Oliver?"

I watched Gwen and Adrian exchange glances. "Please don't tell me he saw me _faint_."

Adrian clapped my injured shoulder, making me startle. "Relax, we caught up with you two moments before. You were having a hard time letting go of him though." I pushed his hand away from my shoulder and began massaging it. Gwen's eyes darted to it with the accuracy of an over-achiever healer-in-training, but she kept quiet.

"What happened with Daisy? He's been in that room with Ethan for twenty minutes now."

Ethan. I assumed she meant Healer Sweeting. Noticing for the first time that my feet were stone cold, I lifted them from the floor and tried to sit cross-legged when it became obvious the chair wasn't big enough for me to pull my knees to my chest. I recounted the entire story, from when I noticed that Daisy wasn't breathing properly until my arrival at the Yule Ball. "D'you reckon a lot of paparazzi took photos of that?"

Gwen caressed my arm. "Sweetie, you were shouting like a madwoman in a pink pyjama for a famous Quidditch Player, of course they took pictures."

I hid my head on Adrian's shoulder. I was going to have a lot of explaining to do on Monday morning. I was going to ask Gwen for some more water, when the door opened up. The three of us jumped to our feet, Gwen and Adrian a whole lot more elegantly than me. Healer Sweeting closed the door behind him and walked towards us. Before I could ask how Daisy was (how Oliver was), he spoke. "We gave her a strong dose of the Draught of the Living Death; that should see that she passes without pain."

I felt a stab at my pancreas. After all the running I've done tonight, she was going to die? "Is there nothing else you can do?" I had freed myself from Adrian's gripped and walked right up to Healer Sweeting. He game a sad smile and a short shake of his head. My own head dropped down to my chest. Oliver was going to lose his dog; the dog he had said was the longest relationship he had ever had with a female. He had lost his mother to the Death Eaters, his wife to another man, and now death claimed the life of his most loyal friend. "Can we see him?"

"He asked to be given some space. Said he'd be with her for as long as it takes, but I'm sure your boyfriend will welcome a cup of tea in a few minutes," Healer Sweeting said, his hazel eyes focused on me as if the other two didn't exist.

I was too tired to blush. "He's not- we are not together," but I could still feel embarrassed. Beside me, I was certain Gwen was trying hard not to giggle.

"Give him a few minutes, then I'm sure he'll welcome friends," he tried to stifle a yawn, and I remembered he had been wearing a coat when he saw me in the lobby, two hours ago. Gwen said something to him; I didn't pay attention. Healer Sweeting said his farewells and walked away. Adrian guided me back to the chair; I could feel my feet freezing and wondered if I could get him to go to the flat and pick up some sturdy wool socks when a pair of white slippers appeared in front of my face.

I looked up. Healer Sweeting was holding a stereotypical patient-style pair of white slippers. "I nicked these for you, I'm sure you can use them." This time I blushed, but took the offered gift nevertheless. He walked back to where Gwen was still standing. I saw them discuss a matter for a few moments, after which Healer Sweeting nodded and walked back. "Gwendolyn just told me your shoulder is injured."

It wasn't a question. I shot Gwen a look but she shrugged. "Do you want me to see it?"

"It's two in the morning, your shift ended."

"I will have to document Daisy's visit and make some arrangements; I can take a look at your shoulder," Gwen was gesticulating with her hands that I agree. So I did. I put on the slippers and stood up, using Adrian as support. I followed Healer Sweeting to room 104, which was identical to room 103, and took a seat on the bed. Healer Sweeting closed the door and walked towards me. "Tell me what happened."

"Brute thugs trying to restrain me," I muttered offhandedly before noticing how bad it sounded. I blushed. "I mean, I had to let Oliver know that Daisy was… I just didn't have an invitation-or proper attire."

He chuckled. "I can imagine I'll be reading about it tomorrow at the Daily Prophet," I groaned. He motioned for me to lower the corner of my shirt so he could see the shoulder better. I had to mentally remind myself that he is a healer and was only asking to see my bare skin for medical purposes.

Sweeting examined the shoulder carefully. I could see his eyes focusing on the patch of skin which was tender to the touch, and bruised to sight. My eyelids with drooping with sleep, and it was a wonder how he was still able to work efficiently even though his shift had ended at midnight. "It's swelled up. I'll give you a cream for that and another for the bruising should take a week or so to go away," he walked towards the countertop in the corner. He began looking through in the various drawings, talking as he searched. "If it hurts too much, I can give you a simple pain-relief potion."

I tried to move my shoulder up and stopped when a current of pain jot up from it. "That may be a good idea."

"But I'll be a small dose, mind you," he walked back towards me, carrying three small vials and containers. "I don't want to lower your pain thresholds too much," he opened one of them, which smelled pleasantly of mint and began applying it to the skin. It felt cool and enjoyable.

"How was Oliver?" I asked while he closed the container holding the cream.

"You can cover your shoulder again," he said, his eyes not meeting mine. "I'm guessing he was very attached to Daisy?"

It was mildly surprising that he could remember the dog's name. "Very. He's had her since he was five."

He nodded. "Dogs her size don't normally live that much; he should be grateful she did. Now, you take this potion," he pointed to the smallest blue vial, "once a day, with meals. It can be hard on the belly, so I recommend after lunch. The cream you apply morning and evening, and the last potion," he pointed to the larger red container, "you have in the morning. That's the pain-relief, so make sure you take only _one_ measure, no more, for five days. If it still hurts after a week, come and see me again."

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he smiled, walked over to a nearby sink and washed his hands. "You can go now, I'm sure your friend will be apt to receiving some comfort."

I slid off the bed and walked past him. Only after I had one foot out of the room did I turn around. "Thank you, for everything."

Healer Sweeting looked at me over his shoulder and smiled. My legs went a little jelly again. "It was my pleasure."

Adrian was slouching on the chairs, watching Gwen march up and down the corridor. She took the potions and the cream Healer Sweeting had given from my arms. "Oliver just popped out; he said he wanted to see you." I made my way to the door. Inhaling, I knocked. There was no answer. I looked back at my cousin, and she told me to go forward with my hands. I watched her take a seat next to Adrian, putting my medicines on the empty chair, and opened the door.

Oliver was crouched against the bed, where Daisy rested. His back was to me, but I could tell it was shaking. I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could and tiptoed towards him. I placed one hand on his upper back. There was an empty chair next to him. "Oliver-"

One hand was covering his face, the other was caressing Daisy's unmoving paw. I felt the back of my throat constrict: she was no longer breathing. "I'm so sorry," I whispered and sat down next to him, burying my face close to his shoulder blades. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around as much of him as I could.

I don't know for how we stayed like that; me holding him as he cried. When we came out of the room, the hallway was far busier than it had been before. Adrian and Gwen stood up. Oliver was leaning heavily against me, and I had a hand wrapped around his torso. "We-we need to-" he mumbled but Gwen shut him up with a hug. Then Adrian joined in, squeezing Gwen and I into a tight human sandwich.

"Like we planned, Adrian," Gwen said after we all let go. Adrian nodded at her, and she skirted away from us, towards the lobby. I shot Adrian a questioning look, and he mouthed 'not now.'

"Ready to go home, mate?"

"Daisy-"

"Gwen will look after her, we made all the arrangements."

"My dad will want to bury her at home – large garden and all, full of flowers. Daisies. She'll like it," Adrian patted him on the shoulder.

"Gwen will come fetch us when it's ready. We already owled your dad," he added when he noticed that Oliver was about to speak. "Now come, you need some rest. Healer's orders." Adrian extended a hand and I clasped it tightly. One heartbeat later, we were spiraling and twisting home.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Expectations

Adrian had nicked some Draught of Living Death; or perhaps Gwen took it from St. Mungo's cupboards, who know? He smuggled a few drops into a mug of chamomile tea I brewed, and Oliver spent the rest of the day sleeping on the sofa. Adrian and I, and Corey when he arrived home close to noon still wearing last night's clothes, took turns watching over him. It had been consensus that under no circumstance could he wake to an empty room.

At four in the afternoon, when the sun was already coming down and I was sharing my watch with Corey playing chess, Gwen appeared out of the fireplace. I stopped my attack on Corey's queen, "What news?"

Gwen wiped the soot from her clothes, which she had changed, "Everything's ready. We've taken her to Oliver's dad's place; he's waiting there for us. Is he still asleep?" she walked over to Oliver's slightly snoring figure and poked him in the shoulder. He only groaned. "I think he should shower," she muttered, "Corey?"

"I'm on it," I watched Corey leave the room towards the one loo all three of them shared. Gwen was crouching by Oliver, her long fingers caressing his short brown hair.

"How's Oliver's dad doing?"

She shot me a tired look. Her vivid eyes were dull with lack of sleep, and there were ugly purple bags beneath them. "Pretty bad shape. Not as bad as this one," she pointed towards Oliver with her head, "but I reckon neither one of them will take it lightly. She's been in the family for ages."

"They both thought there would be no more pain, after the war."

She nodded and stayed silent. Corey returned after a minute. "Tub's ready." Gwen pulled out her wand and muttered a spell. Oliver's eyes cracked open.

"Morning, sweetheart.'

He rubbed his eyes, "Gwen?"

"The one and only."

"Thank Merlin," Adrian's voice came from the hallway. He was already dressed in one of his best black robes, his hair neatly combed for a change. He walked over to the sofa, placed his elbows on the end of it and poked Oliver's shoulder. "How are you holding up mate?"

"What time is it?"

"Time for you to take a bath," Gwen replied, grabbing onto his upper arm and pulling him up without much success. Oliver blinked for a few confused moments; I saw the exact second when the memories from last night returned: his muddled, confused expression contorted with a slight downward turn of his lip, his eyelids lowered. "C'mon Oliver, I need some cooperation here."

It took him a few minutes to bring himself up to sitting position. I had run to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, which he took in silence. With Adrian holding onto his torso, and Gwen's cheerleading behind, they managed to get him settled into the loo. I said I'd wait outside the door in case he tried to drown himself in the shower. Gwen arched an eyebrow.

"He tried when he lost to Hufflepuff in seventh year."

Oliver came out of the shower relatively fast. I had been twiddling my thumbs, half-listening to the water running and to Adrian and Gwen's talk in the living room. Corey had gone to his room to freshen up and put on appropriate clothes after laying some on Oliver's bed for him to wear. I think it was a testament to the solemnity of the moment that not a single thought crossed my mind when he came out of the bathroom wearing only a tower around his waist.

Knowing I'd be the last one to get dressed, I hurried to my room to pick up a quiet black dress and robe. My eyes were drawn to the pair of white slippers resting at the foot of my bed, and an emotion not unlike squeamish delight.

Everyone was sitting around the telly when I came out. Snow was falling outside, and the afternoon seemed darker than usual, as if most colors had been bled into greyness. "Time to go," Gwen said, walking forward to take a hold of Oliver, whose bowed head did not look up. "We'll meet you there," she said before we all heard a loud 'plop' and they were gone.

Corey looked at us like a lost sheep. "I don't know how to get there."

"We'll go together," Adrian replied and I met them in the middle of the room. The three of us held hands before Adrian begin leading us, twisting and turning. I closed my eyes, letting my body be led and warped. The first thing I noticed when we arrived to Mr. Wood's living room was the _noise_.

My eyes opened to find a half-full room. Evie had already thrown herself on Oliver, and was hugging him with all the strength of a beater. I watched Owen join in two, and I was certain I heard a bone crack. It seemed like the entire Puddlemere team had come, even Mr. Deverill was standing in a corner with a glass of firewhiskey in his hands, talking quietly to Amy whose attention was fixed on the brunette that was trying to pry the beaters away from Oliver.

I recognized her as one of Oliver's cousins; I had seen her once before, that New Year's Eve I had crashed. She too reached forward to hug him. I looked around the room, to try and locate Mr. Wood when someone tapped my shoulder. "Elizabeth."

"Mr. Wood," I said, feeling like I should do some sort of respect gesture, but knowing I was pretty unable to vocalize more than was necessary.

"Gwendolyn told me what you did, thank you," he tried to smile, but his lips only twitched at the end; the skin around them seemed to have aged years. His eyes, the same brown as his son's, were devoid of any shine, of any color. They had taken the same greyish tone that I had learned to associate with an aching heart. "Oliver is fortunate to have friends like you."

I gave him a small smile before being swept away by a mess of blond curls. "Oh Lisa!"

"Evie, oxygen."

"Sorry," the beater said, pulling away from me. I was not surprised to see fat tears running through her porcelain cheeks. "It's just so sad, isn't it? Almost as if misfortune shadows him," I followed her gaze to Oliver who was being led to the garden by Gwen and Adrian. Yes, it did seem like a shadow had fallen over him. The question was, how could it be repelled?

The funeral was a quiet affair; Gwen had ensured that Daisy's body was covered in a beautiful silk fabric. Owen and Oliver's cousin, Douglas, had already dug a large space beneath an apple tree. The sun was sinking low in the horizon; snow was floating around us, being swept away by a small breeze. The moment itself had that unique sensation of being suspended in time; a colourless chiasm in the fabric of existence.

Oliver did not cry as his beloved friend was lowered into the cold hard ground; a part of me thought that perhaps his eyes had run out of tears. His hand reached for mine, and I squeezed it hard. Flowers were magically produced and arranged over the snow-less earth; the dead trees and lifeless winter would be Daisy's company until life sprung again in the spring.

Everyone returned to the house afterwards. Except for Oliver. And me. We stood by the newly covered grave until the sun had gone down, and the small crescent moon had risen just over the horizon. It was promising to be a bitterly cold night, as the winds picked up and the snow fell harder and harsher. His hand was still clutching mine. Amy had stayed for several minutes, before going back inside.

When we did go in, it was to a warm house. Mr. Deverill had bought enough food to feed an entire platoon of aurors, and everyone was congregated around the fireplace. Although the mood was far from cheerful, it was enough to dispel some of the oppressing silence that had taken hold of us outside. My feet were once again numb, and even my cheeks were without much feeling.

"We are out of tea," Evie exclaimed two seconds after we had walked in. I was halfway through removing my scarf; Amy was half up from her seat.

"I'll get it," I mumbled uncoiling my scarf and watching Oliver take a seat close to Puddlemere's healer. I thought I would feel a pang of jealousy, but perhaps my heart had gone numb too.

The kitchen was dark and quiet; you could only hear the faint murmurs of the people talking. I turned on a nearby lamp with a flick of my wand and proceeded to fill the kettle with water. I placed a large kettle on a large piece of wood that was resting on a countertop, and pointed my wand at it. I rested against the counter while I waited for the water to boil.

My mind wandered back to that New Year's Eve, almost five years ago, when Mrs. Wood gave me hot chocolate while I cried after having run away. It was a fond memory, despite the grueling context. Things had seemed so complicated, so life threatening at seventeen. It was funny how I could look back at them now and find good things in a situation I had thought was the worst event since You-Know-Who.

"I know what you are doing," a voice caught me out of my reverie. The water boiled.

"Do tell."

"You are using Daisy's death to get closer to Oliver," I snorted and pulled my wand away from the whistling kettle. "But I won't let you."

I rolled my eyes and began opening cupboards trying to find where Mr. Wood kept the tea bags. Most of the cupboards were full of plates, glasses, and old china that I was certain had belonged to his wife. There was no flour, rice, or even boxes with biscuits. What did this man eat? "You've hurt him enough, Elizabeth. And he deserves some happiness."

"That's something we can agree on," I muttered, going on my tiptoes to reach a large tin can that read 'tea.' My fingers touched the can, pushing it backwards when someone yanked on my arm, making me lose my balance. My shoulder began throbbing again. "What exactly _is_ your problem?"

Amy's cool brown eyes levelled with mine. "You Slytherin's are always the same: selfish, arrogant, self-interested… do you think I don't understand why you want him?" I pulled my hand away from her grip. The tin can fell on the floor. There were footsteps by the door. "You just want his money, famous Quidditch player, war hero, handsome – what is there not to fancy?"

"Why, is that all you see in him?" She bared her teeth; her hand came up and I twisted my head sideways. "Are you going to slap me know?"

Her eyes snapped towards her hand. I arched an eyebrow and she lowered it. "You should stay away from him – you are only _poison_."

"Funny thing, I thought I was old enough to choose my friends," her eyes widened to the size of a pan. Her relaxed, cocky and threading pose disintegrated into a block of ice. With the speed of a turtle she turned on her heel. It was good to know my hearing wasn't failing me. "Can I have a word with you, Amy?"

She shot me one last poisonous death glare before following Oliver out of the kitchen. I didn't get a chance to see his face, know what expression he was wearing.

oOo

"You've been lying to me, Eliza," Kathryn threw a small magazine on my desk. I had been staring at the white slippers, ignoring the pile of parchments and documents I needed to sort. One quick look was all that was needed to assuage my suspicions. Splattered in The Seer (although thankfully _not_ on the first cover), was a picture of me arguing with the security guards at the entrance of the Quidditch League Yule Ball. Much to my advantage, I was thrashing against them and making my hair fly around my head, so only those who really knew me could tell it was me. Also, the magazine hadn't managed to identify me.

I counted that as a positive sign. "I can ex-"

"Explain why you crashed the Yule Ball at one in the morning yelling for Oliver Wood?" Kathryn's eyebrows were knitted together making her look like an angry owl. "You said you were _acquaintances_ , Eliza. Acquaintances do not go screaming for each other at a public event – wearing your pajamas of all things. You are lucky none of the editors really know you, otherwise your job would be on the line."

She narrowed her eyes into slits and heaved her chest forward. "It really _is_ a long story."

"I have time," she waved her hand behind her; I could see the pile of work she needed to get through before Witch Weekly closed for the Holiday season in two days laying on her desk, untouched.

I let the slippers fall down and caught them with my foot. I didn't want to do more explaining than absolutely necessary. "He asked me to babysit his dog for the event, you see," I decided to skip the part where we were flatmates; or had a long history. Need to know basis. "And the dog was apparently _very_ old, and she started having this convulsions and-"

"Why did he ask _you_ to babysit if you barely know him?"

Bugger. She's smarter than I gave her credit for. "We went to Hogwarts together as well," I muttered under my breath, hoping she wouldn't catch on to it. But Kathryn had the ears of a bat when it came to gossip.

"Aha…"

"And well, I live close by, see? And since him and Adrian are such good mates… well, I had no plans for the evening," I finished with a lame shrug. Kathryn's eyes were still focused on me.

"So he just asked you?"

"Basically."

"And you said yes?'

"Obviously."

Kathryn fanned herself. "Merlin's pants woman! You babysitted Oliver's _dog_. I would kill for an opportunity like that!" I laughed with my lips sealed and just allowed her to go on her rants about how hot Oliver's pants were. For once though, it was actually easy to ignore her somewhat descriptive monologue; my feet were playing with the white slippers throughout. "Anyhow, darling, you've been such help. You sure you can get him my handmade Christmas card?"

"Absolutely."

Kathryn gave off another squeal and handed me a royal blue letter. I made a show of pocketing it in my handbag. She was smiling wide enough that we probably wouldn't need chandeliers anymore. I wondered what teeth-whitening spell she used… "Go have an extended lunch, sweetie. You deserve it."

"But these orders need to be filed before the day is over, or Rose will have both of our heads."

Kathryn's hand flipped my comment away. "Oh Alice!," she yelled over her shoulder. Alice was hiding behind a pile of parchments and binders that were bigger than Kathryn's and mine combined. "Be a doll of file these," she pointed a manicured finger to my pile, "Lisa has somewhere to be."

Alice small eyes widened. "You got to be kidding me! I'm no longer your ruddy _assistant,_ Kat – I'm your copy editor I-"

"And a lousy one you are turning out to be," Kathryn stomped her foot and walked back towards her office, her arse popping in her tight robes. "You wrote Marc Dodderidge's name as Marc Dumddleblee. I had to fix it or it would have been a right scandal, most popular robe designer and you can't even spell his name right. Go have lunch, Lisa. And let me know what Oliver says about my letter!"

She slammed the glass door behind her. Alice was staring daggers and hexes my way, but hey, benefits shall be reaped when one knows famous Quidditch Players right? Trying not to act too excited, I put both slippers in my handbag and swung it over my shoulder. When I passed by Alice's desk, I gave her a small smile. "I promise I won't take too long." She hissed.

The street was crowded with last minute shoppers. Women were hurrying by, some dragging bored looking children other present-laden husbands. With the muggle traffic and the ten centimeters of snow we had last night, the trek to St. Mungo's was slower and more frustrating than I had hoped. At least I was wearing appropriate footwear (for once).

When I arrived at Purge & Dowse Ltd., there was already a witch with two children whispering at the ugly dummy. I hastened my pace when the dummy nodded and was able to squeeze right in before the door closed. The main lobby was packed; wizards with antlers on their head, children with greenish complexions, and even a witch with a mushroom for hair were all waiting around. Healers, and trainees, were rushing up and about. I could only hope Gwen wouldn't be too busy.

I approached the front desk, where a young blond witch was reading some charts, "Hello, I was wondering if you would know if Gwendolyn Oakley was in today?"

She lifted her blue eyes for a second and went back to look at her charts. I was about to speak louder when she replied, "she should be having lunch," she lifted the piece of parchment and shoved it in my face. My eyes crossed and I couldn't read anything before she had put it back down. "I would check the cafeteria."

Nodding my thanks, I made my way to the side of the building and up the stairs towards the fifth floor. By the time I reached the tea room, I had an annoying stitch on my side. This place too was full. There was a large group of orange-clothes trainees, but I couldn't see any blond head amongst them. Maybe I should have owled her first… "Wotcher there!"

I jumped backwards, bumping my arse on the doorframe. Gwen giggled. "Fancy seeing you around." She was wearing the traditional healer-in-training robes of neon orange; coupled with her fair hair, the effect was quite monstrous.

"Fancy finding you here."

Gwen shrugged. "I do study here. And it is lunch," she eyed me cautiously. "The question is, what you are doing here?" my eyes travelled through the packed place.

"Is there anywhere we can talk?"

"This should be interesting," Gwen said with a small giggle. "Let me grab a sandwich and we'll go somewhere," I watched her saunter over to the stand and linger there longer than necessary, stopping to flirt with the bloke who manned the place. Several people coming in and out of the cafeteria were looking at me oddly, standing there by the doorframe tapping my foot on the tiled floor. "Ready?" Gwen chirped; she had a wrapped sandwich under her arm and was carrying two cups of tea. I took one from her.

"Lead the way." We walked in silence through the corridors of the fifth floor. Gwen seemed to stop every few steps to say hello to someone she knew, be it healer, fellow trainee, or some patient's family member. I was getting impatient, checking my wristwatch every time. Kathryn _had_ given me full use of an extended lunch hour (on the count that I delivered a sappy letter to Oliver), but I wouldn't put it past Alice to sabotage my work to get me fired. Kathryn's obvious partiality was both beneficial and dangerous.

"Here we are," she opened a door and I peeked inside.

"This is an examination room."

"Which is never used," Gwen stripped past me and made herself comfortable in the healer's chair. She pointed to the lone cheap looking one which I took, after closing the door behind us. "I wouldn't sit on the bed; I've heard stories about romances amongst healers you wouldn't believe."  
I eyed the bed with apprehension. "So what brings the unexpected, but welcome, visit?"

Gwen began eating her sandwich at once. I fiddled with my steaming mug, which had been charmed not to burn through my skin. "How's Oliver?"

I gave her a small smile for getting the conversation started. "Hasn't left his bed in two days; I reckon Adrian's been spoon feeding him, to be honest."

"Adrian Pucey being charitable, what's the world come down to?" she rolled her eyes and took a vicious bite of her sandwich. Despite behaving like a cheerful bird at five in the morning, Gwen had ugly looking purple bags beneath her eyes and her complexion was rather like ash. Healer trainees were way overworked, I thought while taking a sip of tea and burning my tongue.

"D'you reckon he may need intervention?"  
"Are you thinking of the psychological type or the alcoholic type?"

She shrugged and grinned. "Maybe both."

"He's going through a lot of crap, all crammed together too," I muttered and played with the tea bag, watching my drink becoming darker by the second.

"Christmas ought to cheer him up; he's always said it was his favorite holiday."

I looked up. "I didn't know that."

Gwen gave me an exasperated look. "Well, you are not know for your emotional intelligence, are you?" I shot her a glare and she laughed. "In any case, I doubt you chose to spend your lunch time talking about Oliver's issues. You are here with an agenda."

My cheeks began blushing beneath her penetrating gaze. "I could be here out of perfectly humane reasons, seeking some advice on how to help a friend grieve for-"

"Please, Elizabeth Montieth doesn't do self-sacrificing," Gwen said with a snort. "You are here about Ethan, aren't you?"

My abdominal muscles contracted against my will, crushing my intestines and esophagus into putty. Gwen laughed. "You are lucky, I happen to know he's working today."

I looked up with obvious speed. "Is he now?" Gwen nodded. "He gave me some slippers the other night… I thought it was only proper that I return them."

"Aha," she muttered before finishing off her sandwich with a mocking stare. She threw the package in a nearby garbage bin and stood up, stretching her upper back. "I'll take you to his office before returning to work. We are dealing with a wizard who got mauled by a sphinx. It's quite entertaining."

I eyed her out of the corner of my eyes and shook my head, deciding it was probably safer not to question her sanity. We went down to the third floor, where Gwen said Ethan had his office. She was chatting all the way through, "he's quite good with antidotes; his specialty is bug-cleaning antidotes, you'd be surprised the amount of kids that spurt warts and wings because their parents use expired poisons in their garden. Bloody kids go and eat the dirt or Merlin knows what and then bam- they have to be rushed in by emergency. Ethan works a lot of the evening shifts for this reason; household poisoning is on the rise. You'd think that with the after-war economy boom people would replace their old potions but-"

"And how do you know him so well?" I interrupted, my patience for people's stupidity and their medical emergencies having reached a limit.

"My first six months was in this ward; I worked the night shift with Ethan on a couple of occasions. He's a nice bloke; not the most amusing at four in the morning but the work keeps you entertained. Oh, here we are," she had stopped halfway through a long corridor. A golden sign with black letters read "Ethan Sweeting, Registered Healer – Poisoning department." My stomach rumbled, and I briefly remembered I hadn't actually eating anything that day. Perhaps returning a used pair of disposable slippers wasn't the most proper course of action, right? He'd seen me acting crazy while dressed in pink pyjamas – and he probably wouldn't even miss the slipper-

Gwen knocked. There was noise from the other side; I heard a chair scrapping against the linoleum floor. My heart skipped a beat.

The door opened. "Afternoon Gwen."

"Wotcher Ethan," she said with a bright smile. His eyes moved from my cousin to me; I noticed they were a wonderful shade of honey with specks of green. He smiled and I wanted to run around the corner and hide until a thunder crashed on me. "Remember my cousin, Lisa? Although I think the last time you saw her she was a touch more talkative," Gwen threw me an annoyed look that only made me more tongue-tied.

What the hell do you say to the bloke that saw you at one in the morning carrying a dying dog and asking for help? I'd like to see Gwen go through something like this!

"Yes, of course I remember," Ethan said, "how's your shoulder?"

Now I was certain you could cook eggs on my cheeks. "Loads better, thanks." Loads better, thanks? Merlin kill me now. I wanted to slap myself; Elizabeth Montieth does not get tongue-tied in front of cute blokes. What's wrong with me? Maybe I got bit by some bug and its poison is addling my brain.

Yes, that sounds plausible.

Hmm… I wonder if that warrants a visit to the healer?

"Anyway," Gwen said after an awkward pose, "I better get going or Nobbs will flip on me. I will catch you later, Lisa! Bye Ethan," she waved at us and skipped her way down the hallway. I watched her hair bounce off of her back in desperation. Don't leave me alone….

Agh. Get a hold of yourself, Elizabeth! "I um, brought you these," I pulled the slippers from my handbag and showed them to him. He blinked and my hands began shaking. "I thought you may need them?"

Thankfully, he was either too oblivious to my obvious discomfort (and sheer, unnatural stupidity) or too much of a gentleman. He took the slippers from my hand, brushing my skin and making me bristle, and smiled. "That was very kind of you; St. Mungo's is always stretching the budget too far, I'm sure the house-elves can recycle these."

I felt like bursting out into a maniac grin. I had been called several things in my life, but 'being kind' was never on the list. "I would've baked some thank-you biscuits, but I was afraid of poisoning you."

He laughed and my shaking hands calmed down. "Well, thankfully poisons and antidotes seem to be a specialty of mine."

"Gwen was telling me all about it, actually."

He arched an eyebrow. "So you were asking questions about me."

"And you haven't of me?" bold move, but it was good to be flirting. Merlin knows I hadn't done it in ages. Ethan's own cheeks blushed.

"Basic details. Height, Hogwarts house, civil status…"

"You know more than me," I crossed my arms and pouted. "I don't even know _your_ house."

"Ravenclaw," he said with a self-satisfied grin. "Where dwell those with a ready mind."

"And those who never left the library."

His laugh echoed in the empty hallway. A few portraits murmured. "I'll have you know I was a beater back in the day."

My eyes moved up and down his figure, "I can imagine that."

He opened his mouth when a door close by unlocked. A hassled looking wizard peeked out of it. "Oh Mr. Sweeting, have you finished the antidote for Mrs. Bainbridge? I hear she's quite anxious to return home."

"I'm almost done, Mr. Helstrom," Ethan hurried to say; I saw him put the slippers behind his back. "Just a few more ingredients, I reckon a dash of murlap essence ought to do the trick."

The wizard's bushy eyebrows narrowed. "Well then, more time working ought to do the trick, Mr. Sweeting," his head disappeared and his door shut with a slam. Ethan exhaled and run a hand through is mop of dark hair.  
"Blimey, his wife must be making him sleep on the sofa again. He's always in a right mood when they have a row," he explained, "Mr. Helstrom is the Head Healer of this ward. My boss."

"Sounds like his lovely to work for."

He snorted in an attempt not to laugh again, and I had to stifle my own giggle with a hand. "It would be unfair for Mrs. Bainbridge not to spend Christmas with her family because of me. But it was lovely to see you again, and great news about your shoulder."

Whatever amount of confidence I had deflated like a muggle balloon. "Yeah, of course. And thanks again for everything –the other night," I turned to side to begin walking down the corridor when his hand brushed my upper arm.

"Perhaps we could continue this conversation later? Say, during dinner?"

"I like dinner."

"That's good to know. See, I'm learning loads about you already," my legs felt unbalanced when he smiled. "Can I owl you? With the Holiday season and everything I'm not sure when I may be free…" he seemed so apologetic it was cute.

"Of course. Time of the year is always a nightmare."

"Great. I'll see you soon then," he seemed to hesitate, his head moving closer to mine before he thought better of it and went back to his office. Despite the fact that he didn't give me a goodbye kiss, I returned to the office with a spring on my step that not even Alice's bad temper or the depressing atmosphere at home could break.

It was going to be a wonderful Christmas, I could just _feel_ it.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Bequeathed

Knoc-Knoc. "Oi, you lazy toads, wake up. It's Christmas!"

I sat up faster than anyone could say _Quidditch_. One hand went to my racing hand; the other one grabbed the wand by my bedside table. There was noise coming from the hallway on top of the raucous knocking. My room was in complete darkness as the sun hadn't bloody risen yet.

"I'm going to murder the bastard," I jumped out of my bed and opened the door. I almost barged right into Oliver, who was opening the door. "No!" I yelled and tried to keep him from letting the demon in. My hand slashed across Oliver's bare back in my attempt to block the door, but Francis was already half way in. the door banged against me, throwing me back onto Oliver's chest.

"Merry Christmas cousin," Francis grinned like an idiot. He was carrying a large pile of brightly colored presents. "I see things haven't changed much," he eyed Oliver, whose arm was draped on my upper chest, stabilizing me. "You still have a horrible taste in birds."

Oliver chuckled and I bristled, forcing his arm away from my body as if his touch burned. "What the bleeding hell are you doing _here_? And what time is it?"

"Five in the morning," I heard Gwen's voice, always a high soprano in the mornings, chirping from behind me. "You'd know it if you ever woke up early," she strolled past me, also carrying a smaller load of presents, and followed her brother who had already placed his load next to the Christmas tree Corey had masterfully decorated the other night. In all honesty, the kid had done a wonderful job; the tree looked magnificent, decorated in red and gold. I had wanted to complain, but Oliver's eyes had lit up alongside with the many floating decorations and I didn't have the heart to rain on his parade.

"Are you two going to keep cuddling, or is someone going to make some tea?" sometimes, I really wondered why Francis hadn't been murdered yet.

Oliver and I exchanged glances. "I'll boil the water," I muttered, squeezing past him to reach the kitchen. Adrian was standing and yawning by the edge of the living room; Corey, dressed in a silk purple pyjama set, was helping Gwen pull out some croissants and scones from one of the many boxes. I eyed Corey; how much money did Quidditch players make if he could spend it in expensive pyjamas?

"Want breakfast, Lisa?"

I shook my head and walked over to the congregation. Francis was slouched on the sofa, so I kicked his legs off of it and sat down there. I grabbed whatever it was that Gwen was offering and bit into it; my mouth was so dry it tasted like sand with chocolate. "You don't need to stand there like a gryndilow out of water, Adrian," Corey said. "You can help me arrange the presents!"

"Arrange them for what?" I asked.

Corey's eyes levelled with mine. "So they look pretty and elegant."

I heard Adrian yawn. He was standing behind the sofa, his arms resting on it; one hand began playing with my hair. "What's the point? We're all gonna open them anyway."

"Well, we'll have a nice breakfast, then we'll take a picture to commemorate our first Christmas together and _then_ we'll open the presents."

I rolled my eyes; both Adrian and Francis chuckled. "He makes it sound like we are newlyweds or something."

Oliver tapped my shoulder; five steaming mugs were floating behind him. Adrian was already walking towards the only remaining sofa carrying his. "Thank you," he lowered one mug towards me and another towards Francis. I watched the last two fly and land on an empty spot on the coffee table.

"Scoot over," I kicked Francis and pulled myself closer to him. Oliver sat down next to me, the side of his bum touching mine; Francis still took over more space than allotted.

"Maybe we should put some seasonal music!" Corey said and pointed his wand to the wireless before anyone could protest. I watched Gwen roll her eyes and make herself comfortable on the floor, sitting cross-legged and muttering something incomprehensible; her face was half-hidden by her cup. Corey was busy levitating presents this way and another, sometimes asking for our combined opinion of whether a certain color matched or clashed. The only answers he got were threats to hurry up from Gwen, non-committal snorts from me and Oliver; Francis and Adrian were both snoring.

"Done!"

My head lifted up from it had fallen on Oliver's shoulder. I bit my lip and straightened up but one look to my side told he hadn't noticed as he had saliva pooling on one side of his mouth. "Ew," I summoned a napkin and gave him a hard shove. "Wake up, precious. And clean your mouth, it's disgusting."

Oliver's eyes blinked. Unlike the last couple days, his face did not look like a ghoul's; in fact, I was almost certain his skin had some sort of color. Adrian had mentioned yesterday that he thought Oliver was going to the pitch to train because he was never in the flat when he was awake (which was a rather narrow window of four in the afternoon onwards). "Thanks," he grabbed the napkin and cleaned his mouth. I tore my eyes away from it and towards Corey's creation.

Corey was staring at the presents with a maniac grin. I had to admit, it looked just as magnificent as the trees in Witch Weekly's "How to spruce up your pine" article that was printed for the Christmas special. I nodded in approval; kid's got an eye for design. "Now we take a picture. Pucey wake up!"

We all protested, even Gwen, but seeing that Corey was the only one with actual energy there was little our petty complains could do. Light was beginning to appear as the time neared sunrise. I was surprised it took the kid a good forty-five minutes to set a beautiful background for the Christmas picture, and yet I was dressed in an old white shirt while Oliver and Adrian were shirtless; only Gwen and Francis were dressed, and that's because Gwen was probably the one orchestrating this torture session.

"Say 'Merry Christmas everyone!'" Corey said pointing his wand at the camera he had set up on a tripod. I was squeezed between Gwen and Francis, with Oliver and Adrian (the two tallest) squatting behind us.

"I'm going to murder the Christmas elf," Adrian muttered and I laughed. The camera flashed.

Bugger.

"Presents!" Corey rushed to his camera to unhinge it from the tripod. I took a seat right on the spot, accidently hitting Oliver's toes. Francis had to come and pick me up by the armpits to get me to move. "This one is for you, Lisa dear."

I grabbed the bright pink box that Corey handed me with a grudge. The sun was up now, and light was hitting me right in the face. "Thanks, Corey." I set my empty mug aside and curled my legs beneath me. The present looked so pretty from the outside that I felt guilty for ripping the wrapping paper.

Corey's doe brown eyes were looking at me. "A scarf," I gave him a bright smile and took the teal scarf out of the box. It felt light and smooth to the touch; curiously, I turned it over to look at the tag. "You got this from Pennifold?" I gasped.

"Only the best for my beautiful flatmate," he said and bounced back to the pile of presents, where Gwen and Francis were already fighting. I caressed the scarf, admiring the fine thread work. I had never owned anything from Pennifold. Not even when I was still living with my father and receiving a sizeable amount of gold for petty expenses.

"I take it that's a good quality scarf?" Oliver sat down beside me; he had refilled his mug and was holding a small box wrapped in blue. I nodded, still too stunned with my newest possession to speak.

"It's like the Firebolt of scarves," and it may have cost around the same. Oliver scratched the back of his neck and took a drink. Blimey, a Pennifold _scarf_ \- with a small squeal which earned me a smile from Corey, I wrapped it around my neck and stood up to check how it looked in the mirror. The teal looked wonderful with my eyes. That kid knows how to combine. I walked over to where he was trying to get Adrian to open up his present, and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Shut it, it's just a bleeding scarf!"  
"Francis," my arms were still drapped over Corey's shoulder. "That's one of the many reasons you are perpetually single," he muttered something under his breath and I chucked what I had bought him (and ugly red jumper I found for sale at Madam Malkin's) over his head. He caught it, threw it on the pile of things that were his, and took a seat next to Oliver who was still drinking his tea.

I searched the pile for the presents I had bought everyone and began delivering them. For Gwen, it was a beautiful leather-covered edition of "Healing Potions for fun and profit." She laughed and said she'd always wanted to learn how to how make her own cosmetics, which was one of the largest sections in that book. Adrian was still snoring, so I threw his present on his stomach. Corey was looking through the various muggle cassettes I had bought over at a second hand muggle shop. I had to change a fair amount of gold to buy those. The only present that I still had was Oliver's.

"Merry Christmas, Oliver," he was still sitting in the sofa, having not moved since first setting camp. I stretched both hands out, holding the present between them. It was the largest that I had bought, and also the most expensive and infuriatingly hard to find. Oliver, who like Adrian was having a hard time staying awake, blinked and set his cup away. He still had that small blue box by his side.

"Thanks, Sarah," beside him, Francis chuckled and I kicked his shin. I stood still, waiting for Oliver to open his present. My hands were clasped behind me, where he couldn't see they were pinching each other. What if he thought it was too corny? "Blimey! Is this a first edition?" he finished unwrapping the large book, prying it open as if it were a medieval relic.

"It is, and it is signed by Dagbert Oddpick too. See, if you look at the front cover you'll see it," my hand accidentally brushed his, but I ignored it and carefully turned the pages to the one I was talking about. A barely legible scribble that the assistant at Obscurus Books had sworn was Puddlemere's star keeper's signature back when they first won the Quidditch League Cup in 1313. 'Chuck that Quaffle there: A history of Puddlemere United' was the standard text on the team's history; every few seasons it's updated to include newer players, records and memorable games or leagues. The first edition had come two centuries after the founding of the team.

Oliver's eyes were darting through the tome with the speed of a snitch. Even Adrian had woken up and was peering at it over my shoulder. Nowadays, whenever a new edition was published, owners of an original book could go to Puddlemere's stadium and request to have it magically updated for a small fee. The last edition had come in early this season. "If you look towards the end, you'll find your name in it."

He flipped the massive tome over, passing centuries of Puddlemere history until he reached 1998. There was a blurb about the war and the cancellation of the Quidditch League from 1996-1998, and how several of Puddlemere's players had perished bravely during the war, leaving the team without a reserve for the first time since the plague. Each of Puddlemere's standing members were written down with a small picture beside their names. "Blimey," Oliver muttered, brushing his finger over his name. "How did you find this?"

I shrugged. "Thrift shopping- and a bit of blackmail never hurt anyone."

"Thank you," he said, carefully putting the book aside where Corey grabbed it and standing up. His arms wrapped themselves around my upper back and he pulled me in for a hug. My own hands hung to the sides for an awkward moment before I placed them on his side. I relaxed; Oliver's body still felt so familiar, so safe. I had forgotten how well I fit there. "This is the best present ever," he whispered, making the hairs on the back of my head stand up.

"How about we go get some real breakfast," Francis said, making my heart leap. Oliver and I untangled; I could feel the piercing glances of both my cousin's and Adrian. Corey was still pouring over the book. "I'm starved."

"We are going over William's for lunch," I told Francis, walking back towards the kitchen for now purpose other than to put distance between Oliver and me. My heart was beating rapidly but that was nothing compared to the speed of self-reproaches going around my head.

"Lunch is like five hours away, I'm hungry now," I rolled my eyes.

Adrian yawned. "I actually second that; I could do with some nice eggs and bacon."

Ten minutes later, we were all putting on our coats and boots. It was already snowing outside, and the walk down to a muggle shop that according to Adrian served the best damn bacon looked like it was going to be cold. I had wrapped my new scarf carefully around my neck, taking more time than usual in front of the mirror to ensure it looked as artistically as possible. "Oh, Lisa, there is one more present for you."

Gwen was holding a thin package. I took it from her, ignoring the fact that I only had one boot on and with a heel, and opened it. I grabbed the small piece of parchment before looking at the actual gift. It was from Ethan.

" _Dear Elizabeth,_

 _I hope you are having a very merry Christmas. This may seem a bit forward, but I was hoping we could have that dinner on Monday. I got reservations for the Queen of Pentacles for eight. I hope you can join me._

 _As for the gift, I thought it may come in handy, seeing as how you don't seem to own a pair._

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Ethan Sweeting._ "

I tore the rest of the wrapping and laughed. Ethan had included a pair of pink slippers with a bow on top.

oOo

Adrian, Gwen, Francis and I arrived at William's at twelve sharp. After the war settled and his wife and daughter returned from exile, William had been able to procure access to Montieth Manor. The house had to be cleaned from corner to corner by the ministry, as most houses inhabited by death eaters had been, before William and April could move in. I hadn't stepped into my childhood home since I run away the winter I got engaged to Marcus Flint.

I eyed the dark, foreboding oak door and the even larger windows of the living room. A fire was roaring on the marble chimney; the chandeliers were still there, large, ancient, and holding the room together. William had even kept some of the furniture – the great bookcase which dated back to the 1700's, the green dragon leather sofas were still there, and the main table that had been in the family for as long as there had been a family. But the emerald curtains that had kept the spacious room dark were gone, replaced by whimsical white ones that fluttered whenever someone as much as sneezed. Most of the paintings had been removed, but there were new ones of the family we were all trying to recreate – and some of those members we couldn't let go off.

I was studying a painting of my mother; she was twenty one, according to the date. Her dark hair was styled into an elegant bun and her green robes were elegantly draped across her body. She was sitting on the same sofas we were on today, but her painting self was trying hard not to move, to pose for a beautiful picture. I smiled. For as long as I could remember, not a single one of my mother's paintings had spoken.

It was not the same with Aunt Adelaine's. "For Merlin's sake, Francis eat with your mouth closed. I thought I raised a young wizard, not a _troll_." I sniggered and sat back down, squeezed between Adrian and Gwen, and grabbed my tea cup. April had decreed that a new Christmas tradition was needed, and since their daughter, Elena, couldn't be pried from her presents, it was to be a grown up lunch.

"I'm surprised Oliver didn't make it," April said, passing a cup to Armand who was lounging; his face looked like a vampire had sucked all the blood from it, and I could only guess what he had done the night before. "Don't tell me you didn't invite him."

I rolled my eyes. April had asked the same question at least three times. It was ironic, really. If at seventeen I had shown more interest than 'proper' for Oliver Wood, I could have kissed my freedom goodbye. Why then, at twenty-three, was everyone so committed to playing cupid? "We _did_ invite him, but he's spending it with his dad."

April's eyebrows furrowed. "You could have invited them _both_. Salazar knows I cooked enough to feed all of Slytherin house."

I shot Gwen a pleading glance, which she ignored me, choosing instead to continue chatting with her mother's portrait. I tried Adrian then, but him and Francis were discussing Quidditch. "I mean, honestly, Elizabeth. How do you expect him to get acquainted with the family if you don't invite him?"

"Armand and William had to spend their summer vacations with him since they were children," I said, "I'm sure they are acquainted."

"You know what I mean."

I slammed my tea cup down on the coffee table. "April, Oliver and I are _over_."

She snorted and shared a knowing glance with her husband. "And now I'm leaving. Adrian, get up."

"Why do I have to pay because you don't like hearing the truth?" I inhaled and exhaled, trying to keep myself from breathing fire. Hear the truth?

"What truth you ruddy idiot? I have a date with a hot healer next week and for all I know Oliver's still shagging your stupid healer!"

Adrian's eyes leveled with mine, the corners of his lips were turned upwards. I heard snorts and chuckles all around me, pushing me closer towards a murdering rage. "It was mostly Amy chasing him and him being a cowardly tosser that couldn't say not interested."

I deadpanned. Then I groaned and sat back down. Even Gwen was laughing at my mortification. I crossed my arms tight against my chest and placed one leg over the other; I would show them though. I would prove to the bleeding world (or at least, my annoying family and friends) that I was over Oliver Patrick Wood.

Because I was.

And that was the truth

oOo

April kept us for supper. I was in a grumpy mood throughout the entire dinner. Why didn't anyone bother Gwen about her relationship with Corey? Or Adrian about his lack of relationship? It was all "Oliver this – Oliver that." I wanted to gauge my eyes out. By the time we got home, closer to midnight than I wanted, I was already planning my reply to Ethan. With the whole family, and presents, and what-have-you, I hadn't had the time to write a letter and mail it. But I would do so first thing in the morning if it killed me.

I opened the door for Adrian, who was carrying some more presents. The flat was quiet, but warm. Someone had lit a fire in the tiny chimney we had. The telly was on. I suppressed an annoyed groan. "What are we watching, Oliver?"

He looked at us over his shoulder; there was a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey next to him. "I have no bleeding idea."

"That's my kind of show," Adrian said. I closed the door behind him and shrugged my coat off. There was something off about Oliver's tone – but that could probably be accounted for the large amount of alcohol he had drunk. "Here's for you – and I'll leave the kid's here; he'll find it in the morning." Adrian yawned and stretched. I was still standing by the door, vacillating. Then Adrian went and plopped himself on the side chair, putting his legs on top of the coffee table. "Fill a mate, up, Oliver."

I walked over to my room, took my shoes off and put on Ethan's slippers. They were pink and fluffy and nothing I would ever buy – but I was drawn to them like bees to flowers. Smiling, I grabbed a small bottle of almost dried up ink, parchment and an quill that wasn't snapped into two. Adrian and Oliver were exactly where I left them: clinging glasses and drinking up.

I took a seat next to Oliver and crouched down to begin writing. They were laughing and distracting me, and after failing at formulating a sentence that was sassy and flirty and not too desperate, I threw my writing utensils down and leaned back. With my eyes closed, I tried to compose in my head but kept getting distracted by my flatmates talk. Blimey, I must be exhausted if I cannot come up with anything suitable to say

"I'll just have to wing it in the morning," I muttered and took Oliver's firewhiskey from under his nose. A bemused look crossed his eyes, which forced me to ignore the tingle in my toes, and I took a long sip straight from the bottle.

Adrian burped. "If ya'll excuse me," he said with a yawn. "I think I'll be going off to bed. Night you lot!" Adrian patted Oliver's shoulder as he walked past him and towards his room .I took another swing from the bottle just to have something to do. The noise from the telly was unintelligible. I took another swing.

Oliver cleared his throat. "How are your brothers?"

"The same."

"And April?"  
"Annoying."

"Elena?"  
I shrugged. "Didn't see much of her; she was playing with a toy broom."

He cracked a smile. "Those things were the best." I nodded, straining to smile. I angled my body forwards and pretended to be interested in whatever was playing on the telly. The bottle of firewhiskey was balanced on my thighs.

Why was this so bleeding difficult? Stupid April and her stupid comments were playing with my head. Oliver and I were friends. Friends who were getting drunk and therefore were running out of things to talk about.

Hm… that seemed to be the new normal for us… no more playful bickering, no more jumping into oceans or facing hippogriffs. Just alcohol, the telly, and awkward pauses.

Something nudged my arm. It was the small blue box that Oliver had been holding that morning. I frowned. "I never got to give you this," he said pushing the box towards me. I took it, careful not to brush my fingertips against his. "Merry Christmas, Sarah." His lips moved upwards for a quick smile, and he was up and walking away before I could finish registering what had happened.

I stared at the small box. Why didn't he just let me open it with all the other presents? Why did he have to hand to it personally? Then I remembered that he had carried the thing all morning, when I gave him the book, when I squealed over Ethan's present. Careful not to break too much of the wrapping paper, I opened it.

My breath caught in my throat. He didn't-

My hands shaking, I removed the snow globe and moved it towards the light. I shook it. Fake snow began dancing around the little plastic house and the two little children. I watched it entranced, feeling the firewhiskey burn my entrails away.

My father had taken this snow globe from me when I was seven. How in Salazar's name did Oliver get his hands back on it? For it was the same gift he had given me as a child; I could see the small scratch that was on the side, a relic from trying to hide it from my brothers.

Feeling like I was being watched, I turned around to look over my shoulder, but there was no one there.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 - Dined

Monday evening took forever to arrive. Kathryn spent the entire day swooning over a short 'Merry Christmas xoxo Oliver Wood' that I had forced him to sign the night before. Alice spent the entire day glaring at me. Meanwhile, everyone at Witch Weekly was going berserk with the last issue of the year, which was due by _Thursday_. Of course, having our fashion editor locked up in la-la-land and the booking editor too jealous to do her work right, the day was a ruddy mess.

"No, no, no, the photo-shoot with Emiliana D'Anore goes after the 'New Year's Eve attire' section. Kathryn specified this last week," I found myself shrieking to Ceres Hurst, the fashion copy editor. "And it this isn't how you spell coalescence. It is 's-c-e-n-c-e-' not 's-s-e-n-s-e'," Ceres yanked the prototype from my hands and strolled away with a huff. I threw myself on my chair and cradled my head with my arms. At this rate, I was not going to make it to dinner with Ethan, and that thought made me downright depressed.

"Where is Kathryn Wotton?" an exasperated voice said. I lifted my eyes up, a snarky comeback already rolling out of my tongue, when my eyes landed on Miranda Winterstorm. She was standing by my desk, holding a large parchment in one hand, the other one resting on her hips.

I stumbled up, hitting my knee against the edge of my desk. "She's having lunch."

Mrs. Winterstorm's steel-grey eyes looked into mine. My knee was aching and my heart was doing summersaults. "Very well," her voice was barely a whisper; a whisper that contained all the power in the magazine world. "Since you know how to properly spell coalescence, I presume you won't' have any difficulties with this," she handed me what she was carrying, and I took it with trembling hands.

I nearly squealed when I read the title. It was Miranda's own New Year's column – she wrote one for every edition, always about a topic that elevated the magazine further. This month's, it was about the closing of a year of death and rebirth. And I would be the first to read it!

"What is your name?"

I looked up, aware that glee must have shown in my face, and I blushed. "Elizabeth Montieth."

"And you are-?"

"Kathryn's personal assistant," my cheeks heated up further.

Well, Miss Montieth, I expect that proofread and edited by four o'clock. Miss Small will leave it on my desk," with a flippant gesture of her hand towards Alice, Mrs. Winterstorm sauntered away. I watched her leave not believing my luck. She trusted me to edit her column! And what was more, by the way Alice was fuming, this was a big deal.

Mrs. Winterstom's column took me two hours to edit, because I wanted to ensure it would be done correctly. Kathryn was gone from the office and Alice was busy sorting out owls and preparing some of the models for next month's shoot. Unlike most of the other departments, which published large articles weekly, the fashion department did a simple 'how-to' and newest buys weekly, and a large photo-shoot which took two weeks to organize on the last edition of the month. Seeing as we were scrambling to get it in order before the year finished, not having our chief editor before it went to the Editorial Department for a final approval was a downside.

But I didn't care. Because I was personally editing Mrs. Winterstorm's column – a privilege that only chief editors got. Word had spread, so that Diana and Primrose took some time of their busy day to come and see. Diana squealed and gave me a hug, congratulating me (such a Hufflepuff) while Primrose looked red in the face.

By three-thirty I deposited the finished parchment on Alice's desk. I had made sure to stamp the time it was finished with my wand so Alice couldn't sabotage me. Kathryn had come back from her extended lunch by then and thought the whole thing was brilliant. "I'm so proud of you," she said hugging me. "I knew you were a good hire. What did Miranda say when I wasn't here? Not that I mind, I _hate_ having to proofread, it's so boring. I much rather do spreads…"

The last two hours of work flew by, and at five thirty I was home searching through my wardrobe and coming up with nothing. I had sent Willow an owl two days ago, but she said she was too busy to help me get ready. Gwen was stuck at St. Mungo's until ten, which rendered me girlfriendless. I grabbed three dresses, one black, one white, and one blue and stormed out of my room.

Adrian, Oliver and Corey were watching some muggle sport. "Oi you lot, I need help," I dumped the dresses on top of Adrian who called me a nasty name. "I can't decide what to wear."

"If you are dressing for a bloke," Adrian pulled the dresses off of his head and threw them over to Corey. "Then I suggest go starkers; he'll like it more."

I wacked him in the head, and grabbed the first dress, talking only to Corey and Oliver. "Blue?"

Oliver shrugged. Corey stood up and walked over me, taking the dress from my hands and laying it vertically over my body. "Good color, but the fabric looks worn out," he threw it over his head; it landed on Adrian's. "White and black are a no-no. You want to _impress_ this bloke, not blend in," he grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me towards my room. "But worry not, Elizabeth, we shall find something that'll make you shine in that massive closet of yours."

It took Corey two hours to finally settle on an old red dress that William had given me for Christmas. He had it magically altered so it didn't look like a sack of potatoes, and I had to admit that it looked classy and sexy; just the right thing to wear for a first date. "Leave you hair up, put some earrings on and some red lipstick," he said, waving his wand and making all my clothes re-arrange themselves neatly on the closet. My mouth hung open. I needed to learn that spell. "Then come outside and dazzle them all."

I twisted my hair into a bun after Corey left, and fished some earrings from my jewellery box. It hadn't really been updated since my Hogwarts days, and a fair percentage of it had been thrown out since they had been presents from Terrence. I grabbed a pair of heels and checked the watch. It was seven thirty-eight; Ethan should be here in two minutes, and I was hoping to meet him outside of the flat so Adrian wouldn't have time to embarrass me.

The doorbell rang the second I put a foot out of my room. I saw Adrian grin from the corner of my eye. "Don't bother, I'll open," I grunted.

"Elizabeth wait," Corey was jumping off of the sofa and running towards me. He grabbed my hand and twirled me around so I was standing in front of him; he looked so small, I never imagined he was this strong. His arms were holding my hands away from my body, so the renovated dress could be seen. "Opinions? Comments?"

"You look like a tomato."

"Burn in hell Adrian," I snapped Corey's arms away from me and walked past him, my cheeks felt warm. Oliver had taken one look, and then returned all his attention to the telly and I was unsure how I felt about it. How are you supposed to feel when an old flame prefers watching muggle football rather than checking you out? I pulled a long, black wool coat from the hanger and checked that I my handbag had the essentials, mainly, emergency make up and my wand. "See you lot later," I called out before opening the door.

Ethan was holding a single red rose. If he didn't look damn handsome in a dark set of navy robes, I would have snorted. Cliché much? "You look beautiful, Elizabeth," he said before placing a chaste kiss on my cheeks. "You can probably throw this inside your handbag; my flatmate insisted I bring you one, but I always thought they became cumbersome after the first three seconds."

I laughed. "Indeed they do," I took the rose form him and smelled it; then I threw it inside my handbag. Ethan helped me put my coat on. I relished in the hearty smell of pine emanating from him. He offered me his arm to take after I had finished buckling the belt and I took it.

"Let's apparate now," he said, "And save your feet the staircase. That thing is monstrous."

"It keeps me in shape."

Ethan chuckled and I tightened my grip on his arm. I had only a vague idea of where the Queen of Pentacles was located, and I really didn't fancy splinching. I wanted him to look at my body whole, not torn into pieces. "Ready?" I nodded and we turned to the left in unison. We were engulfed in the familiar sensation of asphyxiation before being released onto the cold street. My feet landed on the cobblestones a bit uneasily, and Ethan caught me. "It's just a block away from here, shouldn't be too much of a hassle."

I arched an eyebrow. "Let's go then," I pulled on his sleeve towards the street. We had apparated to one of the many crooks in London, so if muggles were to see us they'd just think naughty. My cheeks flustered, and I was thankful it was dark and cold and I had an alibi.  
It turns out the Queen of Pentacles was located in the middle of a small suburban park. Ethan marched through the snow covered ground without hesitation. I had to hold onto his shoulder not to trip. He came to a full stop in front of a big tree. I watched him press a finger against the bark. I scrunched my eyes and managed to catch a glimpse of a small pentacle etched on it. "Reservation for two, under the name of Sweeting, please," he said.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the tree opened up like the doors in my wardrobe. There was a steep wooden staircase inside. "Ladies first, or would you rather I go first, so if you fall I can soften the blow?"

"Number two, please."

Ethan walked inside the tree and turned around to offer me his hand. I took it and carefully stepped in. My feet were frozen, and it was hard to manoeuvre the stairs with my heels. I placed both hands on Ethan's back to steady myself. "Careful, we are almost done," he said after three minutes of concentrating on not falling down.

I could hear the clinging of glasses and the murmurs of people. Ethan stepped off the staircase and waited for me at the bottom. I tried not to blush and imagine myself a princess, but it was hard not to. The Queen of Pentacles was a cave beneath the park; you could see trees roots on the ceiling from where thousands of small lamps were handing in crisscross. The effect was like being inside a fairy hollow. "It's beautiful."

Ethan smiled and clasped my hand in his. I followed him while he spoke to the matron, but my attention was still focused on the room. The smell of earth intertwined with food was succulent. And the dim light from the ceiling seemed to create dancing shadows across people's faces. Ethan and I were led to a small table towards the middle of the room. Each table was on a different level, as if the floor wasn't properly even, with moulds of earth surrounding it to give some privacy. Ethan pushed a chair back and offered me the seat.

I was shrugging my coat off when a waiter came in. "Anything to drink?"

"How about some elf-wine?" Ethan asked. I nodded. "A bottle, please."

"So if I recall correctly," I said playing with my wine glass. The waiter had returned with our bottle so fast I was certain he had been apparating. "Last time you were telling me about your Quidditch days."

Ethan chuckled. "You say it like it's all in the past." I arched an eyebrow and took a sip of the wine. "Well, yes, they are mostly. I do play with some friends from time to time. How about you? Ever played?"

I placed my glass down, leaving my hand halfway down the table and close to Ethan's own. "I was terrified of flying until seventh year, actually. Failed flying lessons in first year and all."

"And what happened during seventh year?"

"I blackmailed Adrian Pucey to teach me to fly."

Ethan's eyes bulged. "As in Puddlemere's chaser Adrian Pucey?" I nodded, giving him a coy smile. "Blimey. That move he did against the Magpies was brilliant."

"I wouldn't tell him that though, it may go over his head. His ego is big enough as is," a small bell chimed nearby. I craned my neck to try and see where it was coming from, but nobody else seemed to have heard it.

"It means the food is about to appear," Ethan said, bringing his hands to the side of his empty plate. "I suggest you take your hands back, or your salad will appear on top of dress."

I sprung backwards, bringing both hands to rest on my lap. A second later, the food appeared on our places. Ethan grabbed his glass and raised it. "For a lovely dinner."

We eat about half of our meal, mostly because we spend the entire time chatting. We spoke of Hogwarts fiascos, of Quidditch. "I hear Puddlemere is being reckoned as the most likely candidate to win the United Kingdom Cup this summer."

"They are having one hell of a season."

He was in the middle of telling me a really funny story about one of the first patients he had seen as a trainee (an old witch who had squid tentacles coming out of her head) when the waiter arrived. "Would you like any desert?"

Ethan and I looked at our half-empty plates. "They do make a brilliant chococlate-volcano cake if you'd like to share." Share? Chocolate cake?

"Yes, please." Our plates were cleaned by magic, and disappeared. I was not sure what time it was, only that the room had grown quieter and I could make out some of the music. "And what happened when you tried to remove the tentacles?" I asked before finishing the wine in my glass. Ethan topped me over with what was left in the bottle before answering.

"Turns out she was trying to turn herself into medusa for a Halloween party – she got parts of the spell right though, those tentacles tried to wrap themselves around my throat before I could finally get them burned off."

I placed a hand on my mouth to stifle a snort. "At least you didn't turn to stone."

"Yes, imagine what a pity that would be."

"Mmhm."

His hand inched forward to where mine was laying. I felt the now familiar wave of butterflies trapped in my stomach. Then the chocolate-volcano cake appeared, splashing molten chocolate on both our arms. "Bugger," I muttered and took the napkin off of my lap to dab at my arm. I saw that Ethan was doing the same. We looked up at the same time, and burst out laughing.

"You have chocolate on your nose," he said. Mortified, I tried cleaning it with my napkin, but he only laughed harder. "Here, let me do it," he rose up from his chair and leaned forward. Ethan took my napkin from my hands, making me shiver, and began dabbing at my nose. We were so close I could see the specks of green in his hazel eyes which were fixed down on my nose with the precision you could only find in a healer. When he sat back down, I felt all the contents of my stomach drop.

Sharing the chocolate cake turned out to be an adventure; it liked erupting chocolate whenever we were taking too long, which turned the whole eating into a messy race. "Now you have chocolate all over your mouth," I said in between giggles, still holding spoonful of cake up in the air.

"Mm," Ethan licked his lips. "Care to help me out?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Slytherins, always in it for the profit, aren't you?"

I looked at him over my fringe. "Maybe." He pouted and I laughed. Putting my spoon aside, I stood up and bent over the table, stealing his napkin. It had seemed a lot easier for Ethan to reach, as he was a couple of inches taller than me even with my heels, but I managed. His eyes were focused on some spot on my face that made me blush and my hands shake while I cleaned the mess that was his cheek. I was almost done when he placed some melted chocolate on the corner of my lips.

"Oh dear, what I mess I made," my eyes flickered over to his. They were rounded with mischief. "I suppose I'll have to clean that, don't I?"

I tried to mould my features into that of annoyance, but my mouth kept breaking into an insane grin. "Yes, yes you do."

He looked down at this guilty finger still full of chocolate, then back up to my face. My heart stopped beating in anticipation. I was watching him as if slow motion as he gripped my chin with his other hand, pulling me down. His own face moved upwards to meet me, and I closed my eyes as his lips brushed lightly against mine, making me shiver. Ethan pulled away, and I opened my eyes. He was smirking smugly. I sat back down and pretended to be affronted. "You just took advantage of me."

"Yes, what a ravisher I am," he laughed, and I joined in too. We played with the chocolate cake until it was finished and it was time to pay. I didn't bother to try and insist I pay and it didn't look as if Ethan cared as he put some gold on the table. He stood up before me and offered me his hand. As he had done at the entrance of my house, he helped me into my coat and we made our way up the deathly stairs.

The park at this time was empty. Ethan was holding my hand as we walked back down to the alley where we could apparate. There was a warmth in my belly that I had frankly gone unaccustomed to. I knew I was flashing a giddy grin that would make any fifteen-year old girl proud, but I didn't give a damn. When he placed a hand on my back so we could apparate back to my place, I sucked my breath in, savouring the closeness.

It began snowing, and neither of us moved a muscle.

"Aren't we going?" I asked, my eyes fluttering open. Ethan was staring right at me, one hand on my back, the other still clutching my hand. He let go of it and cupped my cheek. My breathing increased and I ceased to be aware of my surroundings.  
"It's just," he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. All my blood seemed to have coagulated somewhere around my chest, where it was constricting my lungs from proper breathing. "I don't know-"

"Don't know what?" I struggled to say. Ethan's eyes locked with mine again, and he pushed a strand of hair away from my face. My hand, resting on his shoulder, scrunched the fabric of his coat.

"It's just – it's only the first date," his voice was low and rusty. Tremors were running down through my spine where his hand was making small circles. And they say Slytherin's are conniving. "But I really want to kiss you and- I know if I don't, I'm going to regret it."

I released a long breath I wasn't aware I had been holding. His eyes flickered down to my half-open mouth, before he bent down. My eyes closed tight, and I pulled him closer to me as our lips met. A small gasp escaped me, and he pulled away, taking his warm and moist breath away. I yanked him by the neck and forced his lips to crash on mine. I felt him smile against my lips.

"Well, that's one thing I can cross of my to-do list," Ethan said with a small laugh. I opened my eyes to mock him, but he interrupted me by placing another kiss on my lips, softer and gentler than before. I tangled my fingers amongst his mop of brown hair and pulled on it. "We could have done without that."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him again. He chuckled against my lips. His hand gripped my elbows and pulled me towards him. My feet caught with his, and I fell down; he caught me, his back crashing against the brick wall of the building. "Well if I knew you liked it rough..." I whacked his arm and kissed him again for what seemed like ages. By the time we separated, I couldn't feel my toes. Ethan bit his lower lip while he rearranged my fringe. "I reckon I should take you home before I can't stop myself."

"Drama queen."

He grinned wickedly. "You still have to learn just how much," he gave me a quick peck on the lips, before we both turned and disapparated. The hallway of my flat came into view much too soon. I was having a wicked time standing close enough to him that I could count his eyelashes. "And here is where I leave you." He leaned in to kiss me, and I took a hold of his neck, bent on not letting go.

"What if we miss work tomorrow?" I said in between kisses and lip-pulling.

"Tempting, but it isn't school. We won't just lose points," he replied, placing one last kiss on my lips before pulling apart. I tried pouting and my best puppy-face but he only smiled.

"Fine," I said, pulling away from him. "Bloody Ravenclaws and their sense of responsibility."

"You think we're just stuck up bookworms don't you?"  
"And mental. Haven't you met my cousin?"

"Can't say the genetic connection doesn't concern me…" I closed the distance between us, still smiling, and had just managed to place my lips on his when the door swung open.

"Oh Merlin, my eyes," I jerked away from Ethan with all the speed of a bleeding Firebolt. Adrian, Corey _and_ Oliver were standing by the door; the first one was trying to claw at his eyes, the second one looked like it was Christmas day again and the third one was pretending to stare at the crown moulding. I grated my teeth.

"Can I help you?" I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep Ethan behind me in a vain attempt for him not to see the idiots I had the misfortune of living with.

"You could try getting a ruddy room-"

"We thought we heard noises-"

"You have to come in for tea!" Corey screeched and squeezed past the two bigger blokes to yank on Ethan's arm. "We must meet you, and you know, tell you that if you hurt our dearest Elizabeth we'll have to chase you with beater bats and that sort of thing-"

"Corey-"

He eyed me for a brief second with the same expression of a deer. "What? Isn't that what friends are for?"

I wished I could kill him right on the spot. Thankfully, Ethan didn't seem too affronted. "Yes, well, I would say the same to any bloke who'd dared touch my sister," he said with a smile, prying Corey's hands away from him.

"They're not my brothers," I muttered, shivering at the thought of what those two would do.

Ethan's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"These," I said, grabbing his arm and using my free hand to point at the two retards standing by the door and the one practically jumping with glee in front of us. "Are my flatmates. Oliver, Adrian, and Corey. You've met Oliver."

"Wotcher-"  
"Nice to see you again, I guess-"

"So tea?'

"Um," Ethan mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "It's lovely to meet you, but I have to be at the hospital at six-"

"That's English for get lost."

Adrian and Oliver exchanged a mocking glance, before the former grabbed Corey by the back of his shirt and dragged him in. I waited until the door was shut to let a small frustrated scream escape my lips. I turned to face Ethan, humiliation tinting my cheeks. "I am so sorry."

"So you live with three blokes?"

I shrugged. "You've met Oliver- he was Daisy's owner. And Adrian and I have been friends since the cradle-"

"Was that Adrian Pucey?"

I placed both hands on my hips and arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were a Puddlemere fan?" He shrugged. "Yes, that was Adrian Pucey; Oliver Wood and Corey Withers – you can say I am on good terms with the team."

Ethan nodded his head slowly, a hand scratching his chin. "You have an interesting set of friends."

"Yes well, Adrian and I bought the flat when we graduated from Hogwarts – and what with the war and-"

But Ethan had raised his hand. I eyed him with narrowed eyes. "You bought the flat with him?"

"Well, the papers say it's ours - although it's probably sixty-forty now, what with him having a much larger income and me not being in Britain during the war…" Ethan looked thoughtful for a moment. I felt my belly tighten up; if those idiots ruined this for me… then again, why should he care about my real estate investments? "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," he said with a smile that warmed me up. He grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a soft kiss. "I'm just tired, and I do have to get up in less than eight hours for a gruelling twelve-hour shift so…" I knew a goodbye when it presented itself in the form of a gorgeous healer who had just snogged me like we were back at Hogwarts. "I'll see you soon, alright?" he took a hold of my hand and kissed the back of it. I tried smiling honestly, but wasn't quite sure I pulled it off. With one last smile, Ethan turned to his left and disappeared with a loud 'pop'.

I stared at the spot where he had been, feeling deflated. Thinking that a good yelling match with my flatmates would be the way to cheer me up, I walked back into the flat. They were all sitting around in the same position I had left them couple of hours ago, and from where they shouldn't have moved. "He's cute."

"Thanks Corey," I muttered while shrugging my coat off and hanging it. Adrian was snickering and munching on some choco-balls, while Oliver was flipping channels.

"He seemed into you."

"He was until you lot had to come in and ruin it," I shooed Oliver over so I could sit down. He threw me a look which I replied with a glare. "You just had to go and scare him off after the first date? You couldn't wait?"

"If he's scared off by us, then he's not worth your time," Adrian said in between munches. I reached past Oliver to steal the bowl from him and began throwing choco-balls at him. "Stop that woman, you're wasting food!"

"Besides," Corey said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and Adrian stole the bowl of choco-balls. It wouldn't take too long before I got some tangled in my hair. "I don't believe your lipstick can hold its color for four hours, which means your lips are red for a whole different reason."

A choco-ball hit my cheek, but I ignored it. Instead, I felt my cheeks warming up. "I don't see you denying it," Corey said lying back against the sofa with a smug smirk. "So I guess your dry run is coming to an end, huh?"

Adrian snickered. "You know what?" I said, getting up; three choco-balls fell to the floor. "I don't need to report anything. I'm going to bet," whistles and catcalls followed me all the way to my room. I leaned against the closed door, trying to catch my breath. If the entire evening had gone amazingly, why did I have this nagging feeling that something screwed up had happened?

A small tap interrupted my thoughts. There was an owl tapping the window with its peak. I walked towards it and opened the window, letting it inside. The owl flew to my desk and extended its leg. Wondering who would send me a message at close to midnight on a Monday morning, I took it and read it. Relief washed over me.

" _Dear Elizabeth,_

 _I had a wonderful time tonight, and I hope you did too. I was wondering if you'd be free this Saturday? I have it off, and would love to learn more about you. We can do whatever you'd like._

 _Hoping you have nice dreams,_

 _E.S."_

I squealed and scurried to write a hasty note. " _I'd love to. Sweet dreams, E.M."_ I attached the note on the owl's leg, and it flew before I could pet it. I closed the door and threw myself on top of my bed, hugging my pillow and sighing contentedly. Any trace of uneasiness washed away with new found delight.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – Renewed

Sweat was clouding his vision. Oliver brushed his hand against his forehead, pushing his fringe away. He could hear nothing but the heavy drumming of his heart in his ears. It was deafening and just the way he liked it. And just then- a break; a sound like a whistle and Oliver was diving.

The Quaffle almost slipped through his fingertips, the sweat had clung to them; speeding up, he caught it in his palm, his broom losing control and making a circle. His eyes snapped open, the speed of the wind watering them. Quaffle beneath one arm, his other hand dashed to the handle of the broom; he pulled and stopped three inches away from crashing his face onto the pole.

He hovered for a moment, feeling the incessant beating of his heart and the sharpness of the wind. He tried to inhale, but found his nose was blocked. He tried to breathe through his mouth, choking when the icy air hit the back of his throat. He almost dropped the quaffle trying to stifle his cough. The sun was coming down with a rain of flurries. When he had awoken that morning, it had been bright and sunny. Now dark clouds like the ones perched on his head were closing in.

The he heard it: clap-clap-clap; alone, abandoned and dry.

He pushed his broom sideways, avoiding the rim the hoop again. No one was supposed to be in the pitch; no one ever was unless it was training season – and everyone was gone enjoying their time off with their families. He was the only one who still trained, day in and day out, despite the cold late December air.

And then there was Maud. "Come down, boy, before you catch your death. I don't fancy replacing you mid-season," she shouted from the stands. Oliver was too winded to complain. He had intended to play another round, bewitch the Quaffles to continue attacking, but when your coach called you down, you went down.

Maneuvering his broom with care, he began to fly down. The hand keeping him balanced protested whenever he clenched it; his fingers were on the edge of frostbite. He landed easily next to the older woman, and stood up. His legs were cramped from being on the air for Merlin knows how long. "Evening, Maud," he managed to say.

Maud's eyes followed him while he placed his broom against the half-wall. He dropped the Quaffle beside it, and then dropped himself on a chair near hers. The stadium was quiet. "You're going to work yourself into a heart attack."

He blew warm air into his frozen fingers. "Need to keep in shape."

"Need a hot drink, that's what you need," Maud took a puff from her pipe. Oliver watched the smoke go up. "Perhaps get yourself a bird too. When's the last time you've been-"

"Maud."

"Fine," she took another puff, but this time Oliver looked away. It was just the bleeding cherry on top, wasn't it, when your fifty-something year old couch (twice divorced) asked you when was the last time. He'd been divorced for only three months, separated for five. It wasn't as if he'd chosen to become celibate. And it wasn't as if it was affecting his performance. In fact, divorcing Briana was the best move for his career. He had only let in five shots during the entire season, which was one of the reasons why Puddlemere was only twenty points away from being first in the league.

And, well, the entire team was brilliant. He couldn't take all the credit.

"Perhaps your New Year's Resolution should be to be less moody," he shot her an annoyed look. She shrugged, brown hair spilling around her slender shoulders. "Don't get me wrong – it's bloody brilliant for the tabloids and the publicity, and your game _is_ up, no complaints there. But you're too young to go home to an empty flat."

He snorted. "It's far from empty. I live with Adrian and Corey, remember?" And Sarah, he thought, feeling his cheeks warming up. Perhaps it was the lack of ice-cold wind scratching them.

Maud raised an eyebrow. "Those two can barely be considered proper company; do they fight as much at home as they do on the pitch? I swear to Salazar, if they played the same positions they would ruin our game."

"They got along before. Adrian's knickers have been in a twist since autumn," he said with a shrug. "Before you ask, no I don't know why."

"You lot are odd."

"Odder than you?"

She flashed him a crooked, yellow smile and continued smoking. "You are young, handsome as hell, famous and fairly rich -why the bloody hell can't you be happy? Goes for Adrian too, except he's better at making fools of us than you are. Must be the Slytherin."

Oliver eyed Maud; when she had played for Puddlemere as a seeker, Puddlemere had won the league three times in a row. She had been married twice, and divorced just as many times. She would joke that the golden snitch was the most faithful bloke she'd ever met. As far as Oliver knew, she went home to an empty flat full of cats every night. "Well, I won't get involved," she pulled her pipe away from her mouth and peered in it. With another shrug, she shoved it inside her robe and stood up. "Just promise me one thing, kid."

"What?"

"Go out tonight, enjoy yourself – and make sure Evie and Owen don't drink themselves to a bloody coma. I need the entire team up and ready to play Wigtown Wanderers next week." Oliver smiled and nodded. "Now go freshen up or you will go home alone," she patted his shoulder and messed up his hair before disappearing.

Oliver sat still, staring at the blue empty stadium. The sun was hovering just over the horizon, but he couldn't fathom the strength to move his legs and get up, let alone spin in place and apparate. So he sat still, allowing his thoughts to ramble like snowflakes in the wind. He didn't want Maud's ill-timed words to direct his line of thought, but they did. It only took a few minutes to go through his entire love-life, from early fourth-year crushes to scrutinizing Briana's face as she signed the divorce papers.

He lowered his head between his legs, placing his head on the back of his neck. What was the point, he thought, at the end of the day this was what he loved. His eyes lifted to look at the empty pitch covered in snow: the speed, the adrenaline, the danger. He had achieved his dream, he had everything he'd ever wanted; after years of hard work and unhealthy obsession, he was the official keeper of the team he had admired since before he could say _Quidditch_.

Then why did he feel so empty?

A small, bright-white, translucent frog leaped in front of him, startling him. Oliver watched it warily for a moment before it spoke. "It's almost seven mate, we'll leave at eight with or without you." Then it disappeared.

Oliver sighed and shook his head. It took him a couple of moments to get his joints oiled up and working. He grabbed the Quaffle and his broom and scrunched his eyes closed and twisted to the side – then he was travelling and turning; he held tighter onto his things. His eyes opened just before landing in the middle of his living room.

"Bloody effing hell!" the quaffle slipped from his hand and fell onto the floor. His heart was beating fast, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact cause. "Don't do that! It scared me!"

He tried to chuckle and appear normal. Sarah was standing, wearing that damned black dress she had come into his Captain quarters back in Hogwarts for a snog session in their seventh year. "I'm surprised that old thing still fits you," he placed his broom against the wall and retrieved the Quaffle from the floor. When he raised up, Sarah was standing akimbo, a basilisk glare framing her features. He grinned.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Oliver chucked the Quaffle to the air and caught it again. He took a sweet moment to look her up and down, the long legs, the small chest, the elongated neck, delicately framed by tresses of dark hair escaping her bun – the blood red lips. "Just that you don't look as skinny as you used to," he said with a shrug.

He saw the exact second she registered his words: her eyes widened before narrowing into slits, her hands turned into fists and she was raging towards him. He dropped the Quaffle and grabbed a hold of her hands with his, but she was forcing him backwards. "You prick! You darn arsehole-!"

"Relax woman," he tried to laugh, but the ever-nearing wall was making him worried. Sarah was not only trying to punch a hole through his chest, but she was now using her high heels as a weapon. Oliver felt as though they were dancing.

"I'll have you know I haven't gained any bleeding-"

"Sarah!"

"-weight, you stupid cat-"

"Sarah-!"

"-And I thought Pucey was the git in-" the last of her sentence was cut off. Oliver's back collided against the wall, his head slamming against it. Sarah's heels got tangled with his robe and she fell down against his chest. "Ouch."

Oliver's eyes were fighting a losing battle. The throbbing on the back of his head wanted them closed, for even the dim light of the room was much too bright. But the fantastic, and oddly melancholic, view of Sarah's chest crashing against his wanted them open and alert.

She looked up, her blue eyes wide. When she spoke, her voice had lost its spunk. "Are you alright?"

"Hit me head, it's all," he let go of one of her hands somewhat reluctantly. She kept her hand level with his shoulder. Oliver poked around the back of his head, trying to see how much pain there was, and what the damage looked like.

"Perhaps it'll rearrange some neurons and get them working," Sarah said, peeling herself off of him. He stood there, trying to calm the throbbing on his head, and watching her standing awkwardly. It occurred to him that they hadn't been as close since before Hogwarts finished.

It made him oddly morose. Perhaps Maud was right and he needed a change in thought.

He pushed himself of off the wall, still cradling his head. Sarah had moved back towards the mirror, where she was staring down at herself, turning around to get different angles. "That dress' always made you look beautiful, stop sweating it," he muttered and walked past her, on his way to the loo. He'd have to shower and possibly shave before he was decent enough to go out.

"Oliver," he heard her cry. Oliver stopped midway through the corridor and turned around. "How did you get the snow globe back?"

His abdominal muscles tightened, waiting for a punch that was only verbal. "Adrian and I helped your brother clean up the mess the Ministry did in the house. I found it locked up in what I reckon was your father's studio." He remembered sorting through piles of parchments, old book and miscellaneous memorabilia when his hand clutched the cold round object. He had pulled it out of the box and stared at it, feeling surprised and dejected.

He remembered buying that globe with his mum years ago; they had been shopping through muggle London, since his mum was shopping for her muggle family. He had already purchased a gift for his cousins and Francis, and was struggling to think of something for the girl with dark hair and blue eyes. It had to be something beautiful, he thought, but what? What do girls _like_? His head had been preoccupied with coming up with something adequate when his mum walked into an antiques store, searching for some tea set for her sister. Oliver had wandered through the shelves, half-looking at the contents when his eyes landed on the snow globe. He had gone up on his tiptoes to get it off the shelf.

What in Merlin's name was this? "You shake it darling," a young woman who worked there said. She placed her hands on top of Oliver's and shook the thing. His eyes had been entranced with the falling snow. "See? They're quite pretty, aren't they?" He had rushed back to his mum, clutching his find tight against his chest.

When he saw it covered in a thick layer of dust in the bottom of a box full of Sarah's father's old things he had wanted to hurdle it across the room. Although it had been a few years since their break up, it stung to know that even since childhood she had always played him.

"My dad took it from me that night," Sarah said, taking a step forward and coming to stop a few inches away from him. Oliver's jaw was set tight enough it began to hurt. "Nicholas told him you had given me a gift and well, you remember how he was at the Yule ball, don't you?"

He nodded. "I didn't know he had kept it; I thought he had tossed it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Sarah's eyes searched his. She shrugged. "I didn't think you'd like knowing."

Touche. "But I'm happy I got it back," she finished with a smile that made Oliver's abdominals contract tight enough to squash his spleen. "You should hurry up, though. Adrian _will_ leave at eight with or without you, and you smell."

The corners of his mouth tweaked into a wry grin. Sarah smiled and walked back to the living room. Oliver stared at her hips until she disappeared, before shaking his head and making his way to his room to pick up clean robes. He tried not to let his mind wander down memory lane as he showered, but the recent physical-closeness made it hard not to.

" _Are you still moping over the mistletoe, Oliver?" Moping? His eyes landed on her, and for a moment he wished he could be basilisk. Moping?_

" _What am I supposed to think?" he punched the metal locker, ignoring the throbbing in his knuckles. If the pain was I his body, he could deal with it. But if it meant facing the monster he knew was crawling out – "You run away and come to my house, Sarah. Then you get yourself injured and it is Pucey who gets to be with you and I-" and I don't._

" _Oliver, I-" she opened her mouth, then closed it again. He thought his stomach was about to burst. Merlin, why did he had to go and get involved? And why did Pucey get to go with her to the infirmary? Oliver was aware his body was shaking, his knuckles were still throbbing, and the monster was getting out of control. How could she stand like that and pretend like this wasn't spiraling out of control?_

 _She placed a finger against his forehead, a single bead of water fell on his eyelashes. He blinked it away. Her finger turned into a hand, gently pushing his hair away. Her eyes were roaming through his face, looking everywhere expect for his own eyes. Oliver's skin prickled everywhere she touched, and the urge in his chest to simply yank her by the waist and take control of her half-parted lips was becoming harder to control. His hands curled into fists as his breathing grew shallow._

 _He was losing it._

 _One hand untangled form its prison and landed on her waist, bringing her in. She gasped, and he knew the moment to stop, to save himself, was closely coming to an end. His lips crashed against hers, forcing them open; warmth invaded his mouth, and he lost all sensation of his body. All that mattered was that she was returning the kiss with just as much hunger. He didn't know where they were, or who they were –all that mattered was that he didn't let go._

" _Oliver," she gasped, and he bit against her lip._

His eyes flew open, and reality crashed in. Oliver turned the faucet off, feeling the warm water trickling down his body. There was knocking coming from the door. "Wood, hurry up or we're leaving!"

He wanted to stay beneath the now gone stream of hot water, to continue remembering the feel of skin and lips, but he wasn't seventeen anymore. With a long inhale, he stepped out of the tub and grabbed a white towel to dry himself up with.

Maud was right. He was much too young to be coming home to an empty flat (with Adrian, and Corey, and Sarah); but he also knew he wasn't ready. There was a shadow colored red, and another brown, and a last one black that wouldn't lift. And it was this last shadow that he was the most afraid of, because it was the only one he was certain could break his heart into shreds that would never heal.

But he was Gryffindor and, above all, he had courage.

Oliver picked up his clothes and put them on, determination fixating with every sock, with every leg that went through the holes in his trousers. In four hours the damned 1998 would be gone, and so would morose, forlorn Oliver Wood. It was time he began living it up and drinking it down, not to drown sorrows but to augment laughter. He wasn't seventeen anymore, and so, he shouldn't have the same fears as before.

He knew what he wanted. And he understood he needed time to be ready to pursue it. But for tonight, he would go out and have fun, and make Maud proud.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 – Played

The first match of the New Year's was Puddlemere United against the Wigtown Wanderers was being played at Puddlemere's own stadium. It was a rather big deal (or so Corey said), since Puddlemere had not played in their own stadium for two seasons, what with the war and renovations. "You'll love it when you see it," Corey said. "It no longer looks like you are inside dog's poop. It's bright and blue and-"

"And here are your two tickets, Lisa," Adrian walked past Corey, punching him in the arm. Corey shot him an angry look while he cradled his shoulder. Adrian ignored him and dangled a pair of tickets over my head. Oliver was making noise in the kitchen. "You and Gwen can sleep in until later – there's no need to wait with the crowds when you'll be sitting in Puddlemere's booth."

"That's good to know," I said eyeing the tickets in my hand. "It'll give Ethan and me some time to get dinner before the game starts."

"Ethan?" Adrian asked with a crooked eyebrow. Corey snickered. The noise from the kitchen stopped.

"Gwen can't make it, she's working in the spell-damage ward now and her supervisor is a right git. So I invited Ethan."

"Does this make your third date then?" Corey leaned over the back of the sofa, his eyebrows wriggling.

I exchanged a look with Adrian, but he too was looking amused. This couldn't be go. "Get to the point."

"Well, you know-"

"Know what?"

"Third date is an awful long time not to-"

"Do you consider him picking me up from work for a quick snack before his graveyard shift a date?" I snorted. In fact, since out first official date, Ethan and I had some trouble arranging for formal days out. St. Mungo's had a knack for changing his schedule at the last second, so we had to resort to squeezing in time in between his shifts and my lunch breaks. Kathryn didn't mind that I took extended coffee breaks as long as I got her tickets to see Puddlemere. Which Oliver got for me (signed and everything – at this rate I was going to get a promotion any time soon).

Corey sniggered. "I'm just saying, it's date protocol."

"Adrian translate."

"It means that the bloke is probably expecting more than snogging by now," he said with a shrug.

I threw a pillow at him. "Your lot are disgusting."

"We just don't fiddle around," he flashed me a smile before yawning. "Speaking of which, I'm going to sleep – big game and all." Adrian marched out of the room, throwing another punch in Cory's direction, which he dodged. Corey wriggled his eyebrows suggestively one more time and sauntered off to his room. That just left Oliver in the kitchen and me browsing through Witch Weekly's newest edition in awkward silence.

The next day Ethan and I arrived at Puddlemere's stadium with only a few minutes to spare. I flashed our tickets to the young witch manning the entrance and she let us through. Getting to the utmost level took a couple of minutes and by the end of it I was hardly winded. Those damned old staircases I had to go up and down each day were paying off.  
Ethan, on the other hand, was struggling. "Tsk tsk tsk, whatever happened to your old beater days?" I had already reached the box whilst Ethan was a couple of steps below me.

"Long gone," he was clutching a stitch on his side. I rolled my eyes and looked at the numbers in our tickets, then back at the box. It was a cramped space, with fifteen or twenty royal blue chairs with golden trims in it. Most of them were already full. I caught Mr. Deverill's booming voice welcoming at the same time as my eyes locked with Amy's.

"Elizabeth, sweetheart, come on in, come on in, we are all family here!" Ethan was wheezing beside me. I tore my glare from Amy's and grabbed a hold of Ethan's hand. I saw her eyebrows arch, and I threw her a contemptuous stare before I began leading Ethan through the first row of seats. Mr. Deverill was at the other end of the room, talking to an older witch and wizard. He was gesticulating animatedly, and I had the suspicion he was bragging about his team.

His attention was diverted when he saw us approach. He took my lonely hand and squeezed it between both of his hands. His fingers were so fat they looked like sausages. "Elizabeth, good to see you, lass, good to see you!" he shook my hand causing my arm to tremble like a half-cooked noodle.

"Nice to see you again, sir."

"Sir? Pft, don't make me feel old. I've told you to call me Philbert, we are all family here," he said and I struggled to grin. His hands were gripping mine so hard it hurt. His eyes wandered over to my side. The older couple retreated back to their second row seats. "And who may this dashing young man be?"

"This his Ethan my-" I stuttered, throwing Ethan a please-save-me glance.

"Boyfriend," he said, letting go of my hand and extending his. Mr. Deverill grabbed it and at once began shaking it with all the energy I associated with a herd of angry hippogriffs. "Ethan Sweeting, nice to meet you."

Still shaking Ethan's hands, Mr. Deverill turned his head to the side. "You've been a naughty girl, Elizabeth," he winked. "Getting a boyfriend without consulting me! And my, I had ten galleons bet that you and O-"

"Philbert, the match is about to start," Amy's voice cut right through Mr. Deverill's hearty speech and my humiliation. Thankfully, Ethan was more concerned with examining the damage on his hand that it didn't seem he had caught the almost-slip. "Oh dear, it is, isn't it? Well then, we ought to sit down! Go find your seats kids, I need a quick word with Darius – Darius Boothby, our commentator…"

Mr. Deverill walked past us towards a middle aged blond man who was clearing his throat. Amy was still standing in front of us. "Hello."

"Hello," she said, her glower determined to let me know how much she disliked me. Couldn't blame her. From what my sources (read, eavesdropping) told me, Oliver and her had been on the edge of a work-relationship romance when it evaporated as if it had never existed. I was plain she blamed me for that fallout, even though Oliver had caught her calling me a gold-digger, not the other way around. I still didn't know exactly what he had said to her after Daisy's funeral. "And you are?"

"Oh, Ethan Sweeting, pleasure to meet you," he extended his hand for her to grasp, but she took one look at it before walking back to her seat. "Not very friendly, is she?"

"Let's say she doesn't like me much."

Ethan gave me a dry smile. "Didn't I tell you to play nice?"

I grabbed his arm and pulled him towards our seats. They were on the right edge of the box, first row. Adrian had said that the middle seats were always reserved for Mr. Deverill, the commentator, the healer, and the coach, Maud Capulet who was trying to get Mr. Deverill to stop talking with the people sitting on row two and sit down. Seeing how I was stuck next to Amy for the remaining of the game, I had to say Adrian got us pretty sweet tickets.

The stadium had been renovated to pay respect to Puddlemere's new colors. It was a bright royal blue that looked black in the falling afternoon. The seats were covered in leather and quite comfortable, but I couldn't say the rest of the stadium had high-end seats as well. There was a large board down the middle of the stadium where an advertisement for Madam Malkin was playing in bright golden letters. Ethan took out a pair of Omniculars and began adjusting the many knobs. I turned towards Amy. "Why aren't you down at the pitch?"

She threw me a scathing look and flattened the top of her quilt. "Because the apparition walls don't apply to the home team, which means if something happens I can just apparate right down."

I turned back around to see how Ethan was doing, and ask him if he needed any help, but the booming voice of the commentator interrupted my thoughts. "Welcome, witches and wizards, to the first Quidditch match of the season!" there was a deafening cheer coming from the thousands of people inside the stadium. Mr. Deverill was clapping in his seat. "Before we start, let's recap the League's standing. On first place, and with a modest lead of fifty points, we have the Ballycastle Bats, who'll be playing the Holyhead Harpies, down in ninth place, tomorrow. In second place, we have our Puddlemere United, with five-hundred and eighty-six points," the roar of the cloud was ear-splitting. If Puddlemere managed to win the game with a lead of over sixty points, they'd be first in the League. "And now, please greet our host team – Puddlemere United! GRIFFITHS – PUCEY – BRADLEY – TWIDDLE – BROCKLEHURST – WOOD AAAND WITHERS!"

I stood up alongside everyone else, clapping and cheering. Ethan was still fiddling with his Omniculars, so I kicked him in the shin as seven blots of cobalt blue swept onto the pitch. I could see Evie's blond ponytail flapping in the wind, and Adrian flying just behind their captain and fellow chaser, Wilda. "And now, please greet the Wington Wanderers – PARKER – CINDERFORD- THRUSTON – NOLTON – SPORE- PEPPERIDGE AAND YOUDLE!" the cheer was quieter than for Puddlemere, but the seven blurs of blood red did not seem frightened as the flew towards the middle to stand in front of Puddlemere.

The referee walked onto the pitch, holding her broom and the casket containing the four balls. She said something to the two captains, Wilda Griffiths and Eglantine Parker, who shook their hands. "And the snitch's been released – the quaffle is in the air and the match has begun! Pucey in possession, passes to Griffiths who catches- back to Puce- Bradley-Griffiths- Brad- drops, and Parker catches passes to Cinderford-"

The Wanderes chasers were getting closer. I was leaning against the railing, my eyes fixed on Oliver's behind and my hands tearing at the hems of my old Slytherin scarf. "Block, block, block-"

"And Keeper Wood blocks! Passes back to Pucey, who dives beneath Thruston to pass back to Griffiths-" Adrian managed to score before the first ten minutes were over. Everyone in the box erupted into cheers and hugs. Someone even popped a bottle of champagne and began passing glasses around. I gulped mine at once, putting the glass aside and focusing back on the game, where Evie was attempting a Bludger Backbeat, striking the bludger with a backhanded club. The bludger swivelled around her and began chasing the Wandere's chaser Parker.

"Ouch –that must have hurt. Great play by beater Twiddle, quaffle back in possession of Puddlemere." But they didn't keep it for too long. Angered by the attack on their captain, the two Wanderers' beaters sent both bludgers straight at Evie, who dodged the first one but was hit in the rear when the second one rounded up on her again. Puddlemere's coach began yelling at the top of her lungs as Owen hurried to keep Evie in flight; of the chasers, only Adrian was able to keep from getting distracted, but then Thruston stole the quaffle from him and raced towards Oliver.

Maud was on her feet and screaming. "IF YOU DON'T BLOCK THAT WOOD I'M BLEEDING REPLACING YOU!"

Thruston passed the quaffle to Cinderford. Oliver was hovering right in front of her when she chucked the quaffle behind her; I gasped when Parker caught it and flew to the side, throwing. My nails dug into my trousers. Oliver did a sharp turn and accelerated, I was close enough to see him almost leap from his broom to catch the quaffle in his arms, the broom losing control and doing a backflip on him. He crashed against the rim of the hoop, but managed to keep the quaffle from entering. "Idiot," I heard Amy murmur. "If I have to fix that shoulder again I'm going to slap him"

But it didn't seem like Oliver had felt the blow at all. He levelled his broom again and shot the quaffle with the same shoulder he had bludgeoned. Adrian caught it and sprinted back towards the opposite goal posts. Evie and Owen were back on the game, and chasing bludgers like they were snitches. In fact, they were so conscientious about them, that the Wanderers' beaters could only fly behind their tail, hoping to catch a bludger. Adrian scored, bringing the score twenty-zero.

"Is it me, or is the opposite team sort of lousy?" Ethan asked after Cinderford dropped the quaffle for no apparent reason, giving Luke a chance to score again.

I answered Ethan without tearing my eyes from the action. Evie had just smacked a bludger against one of the other beaters, who had fallen off his broom. "They are second last at the moment," Luke passed the quaffle to Wilda who shot- but missed. "The game should end as soon as Puddlemere gets a sixty point lead. Just watch Corey," I pointed down to where the youngest of the team's player was doing pirouettes with his broom, feinting and rising again. The other seeker, Yourdle, was having a hard time keeping up. Neither of them seemed to be taking seeking very seriously.

"Why is he doing that?" Ethan asked as he focused his Omniculars to where Corey was flying over the stands, apparently chatting up some fans. Every time Yourdle caught up to him he wold sprint to the other side of the stadium, doing a sloth grip roll for no apparent reason.

"She's been told to tail him, and that's what she's trying. He's waiting to get the lead before getting serious," Wilda had scored, and they were forty-zero. There was no question that the Wanderers could not come clean from this match, the chasers were resorting to use of physical force to try and keep Puddlemere from scoring. Thruston, who was as massive as Owen, kept trying to knock Wilda out of her broom. What he didn't notice was that Adrian and Luke were about to score again. Fifty-zero.

"They should hurry up, it's getting late," Amy was tapping her foot anxiously against the wooden floor.

They only had one more goal to go before Corey could stop showing off and catch the snitch. Parker had the quaffle again and she was being flanked by Adrian and Luke when a bludger hit Luke on his back. Two thousand people gasped, but the manoeuvre had been legal and no foul was called. It did, however, enable Parker to get past Oliver and score a goal. Fifty-ten.

"Bugger."

"BRADLEY UNLESS YOU ARE DEAD OR DDYING GET BACK ON THAT PITCH!" Puddlemere's coach screamed over the disappointed grunts of the crowd; Adrian had had to help stabilize Luke back on his broom. I stole Ethan's Omniculars and zoomed in. His face was contorted with pain; beside me Amy was asking whether they should call a time out.

"Those beaters are going to get nasty," Maud said, removing her wand from her throat to end the sonorous spell she liked to use to yell at her players. Norton had just attempted a Transylvanian tackle on Owen, who was in the middle of hitting a bludger and it was Norton's nose that got a punch. "They better finish this quick. And what the hell is Pucey doing?"

Adrian had grabbed the quaffle and tucked it beneath one arm; he was speeding past his own teammates, zig-sagging the opposite chasers who were closing on him. Her wand flew back to her throat. "PASS YOU RUDDY IDIOT! PASS!"

But he didn't. Instead he shoot up with three chasers on his tail until he was some twenty feet above the hoops. He hovered there for a heartbeat, Cinderford reached her arm to take the quaffle form him, when he dived, passed to Luke who flew past the keeper and scored. Sixty-ten.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen was a new manoeuvre by Puddlemere's chasers," the commentator said over a roar of cheers. I had to admit it was pretty brilliant and unexpected. Oliver was punching the air, and I had the suspicion it had been his idea.

Maud seemed to agree. "If he invents another play without my consent I will disembowel him."

The match had sped up- if Puddlemere scored only once more, then Corey would be free to catch the snitch and Puddlemere would be first in the league. "And it looks as if Yourdle has spotted the snitch!"

I focused the stolen Omniculars on the girl; Corey had been doing a backflip on the other side of the pitch when he stopped mid-air and dived in. I was clutching the Omniculars so hard against my eyes that I was certain I would get marks. Corey was closing in. "And Pucey scores!"

Sixty-ten, but it barely registered because Yourdle's hand was extended and there was a maniac smile on her face. "Oh come on!" with enough zoom I could see she wasn't faking it. The golden snitch was floating just inches away from her, and Corey was still two feet away. Bloody idiot.

"CATCH THAT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE, WITHERS!"

Yourdle popped herself forward on her broom, her hand all but brushed against the snitch when –WHAM. There was a collective gasp as she tumbled sideways, falling ten feet down, which was quickly replaced with loud cheering as Corey emerged triumphant, snitch snug inside his outstretched hand.

As soon as Corey caught the snitch, cheers and whistles had erupted from the crowd. I was jumping up and down, still clutching Ethan's Omniculars against my eyes. They were focused on Adrian who was speeding down to envelop Corey in a hug. Owe, Evie and the rest of the team followed suit.

"Good game, huh?" Ethan placed his hand on mine and removed the Omniculars down. I tore my eyes from the celebrating team to look at him. He was smiling, but wasn't jumping up and down and screeching like a three year old high on sugar like Mr. Deverill on the other side of the room. He looks oddly composed. "Puddlemere's first in the league now, right?"

"For the first time in seven years! If they stay in the top four, they'll qualify for the European Cup in the summer – I know Adrian will be thrilled if it happens – Oliver would probably have a heart attack actually-"

He placed his hand on my mouth. "You support the team of the players?"

"The players," I replied after removing his hand from my lips; they couldn't help but grin manically. "I'm a die-hard Harpies fan." I caught Mr. Deverill waving at us. Like everyone in the box, he was grinning like a Death Eater that got a promotion. Amy threw me one last look before I saw her disappear from the box.

"This is wonderful, simply wonderful," Mr. Deverill said when we had caught up with him. The mood surrounding was so explosive that it took us close to fifteen minutes to walk the thirty feet that was the entire box to get to the exit. Mr. Deverill grabbed my hand and began shaking it before he thought better of it and enveloped me in a hug. I threw Ethan a save-me glance, but he chuckled and shook his head. "Come, come, the press will be upon them soon, but we can go congratulate them before they're off drinking somewhere," Mr. Deverill let go of me only to yank on my arm and begin to turn. I scrambled to reach for Ethan's hand just before we disapparated.

Mr. Deverill let go of my hand before we reached solid ground. I stumbled, but thankfully Ethan caught me before I fell on a patch of ice. I stared at it warily, thanking my lucky starts my boyfriend had better sense of stability. A grin that had nothing to do with the victory erupted from my lips. My boyfriend, the healer – I liked the sound of it.

"You alright?"

I turned around and placed both arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissed him. "Never better."

"Oi, you two could bloody well save that for the after party. Some of us are trying to get our lumbar spine healed," I rolled my eyes and disentangled myself from Ethan. Mr. Deverill had apparated us straight to the Puddlemere locker room. They looked very much like Gryffindor's back at Hogwarts: the wall in front of us was covered in steel grey lockers, and several large wooden benches were in front of it. There was a large mirror with three sinks tucked in a corner on the right, and an archway leading to what I supposed were the showers.

Evie was dancing on top of a bench with only half of her robes on. There was a nasty bruise on her left shoulder, and Amy was screaming at her to stop irritating it. Luke was sitting with his naked chest in front of us; Amy had her wand aimed at his lower back.

"Will your injury be alright?" Ethan asked; his cheeks were a bright pink. How cute.

Luke waved his hand dismissively. "As long as I can drink tonight and fly a broom tomorrow, I don't give a damn."

Amy whacked him on the back of the head. "That was a close call, Bradley. You shouldn't sit a broom for a least a week."

Luke's eyes popped out of their sockets, but it was Maud who spoke. "A week? But we play the Catapults next Thursday!"

"Use a reserve then," Amy said, her eyes challenging the older woman. "Unless you want him to be paralyzed from the tailbone down."

"Would that impact my performance with the ladies?" he threw me a wink. Amy whacked him again. "Watch it woman, or it'd be a concussion you're fixing next."

I laughed and intertwined my fingers with Ethan's. Luke looked disappointed. "Dammit. I owe Pucey twenty galleons."

"For what?'

"For being the best chaser this ruddy team has ever seen," Adrian said coming out of the showers. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and another one around his head. Luke pretended to gag while Adrian walked to his locker and began to pull clothes out. It was clear that modesty did not apply in these quarters.  
Evie jumped off the bench and danced her way towards the archway. She screamed, "Shower time!" and disappeared.

"How about you lot wait outside?" Adrian said, throwing the towel around his head on the floor. "Corey's almost done too, so we'll be out soon."

I blinked. "You are not waiting for the rest of the team?" I looked pointedly at Luke who was still being treated by Amy and hadn't even showered.

Adrian gave me a very Slytherin smirk. "Hell no. The best press pictures go to those who come out first."

Luke threw him a towel. "Tosser."

Ethan and I waited outside the stadium for half an hour. Night was falling and I was freezing. But at least I had the excuse to snuggle against him, so I was only complaining as much as I needed to. Then of course I had to remind myself that I didn't need an excuse to snuggle against him. Adrian, Corey and Owen apparated together. The three of them had huge, matching grins. "Pretty fans?"

Adrian slapped me on the back. The top of my head bumped against Ethan's chin. "There is a reason I went into this business."

"Drinking!"

Adrian rolled his eyes. "And drinking. Let's go, I've already have the flat loaded."

"You mean our flat?" I said with a small hiss. Adrian only grinned, pulled me away from Ethan and twisted. The three of us were standing outside our flat. Adrian let go of me and went to open the door

"You should be used to it by now," I tried to exchange an amused if slightly frustrated glance with Ethan, but he seemed to be glaring at Adrian's back. I poked him on the shoulder, and got no reaction. I had to snog him to get him to snap out of it.

It hadn't escaped my notice that every time Puddlemere won a game, the after party took place in our flat. Luke lived in a rather small place close to Diagon Alley that cost a fortune – but had miniscule square footage. Evie's place was a death trap, and Owen mostly lived on either her bed or her sofa (depending on the status of their relationship). Wilda had a husband and two small children. At least that was Adrian's logical reason as to why our flat became the after-party bureau.

"Besides," Evie chirped in taking a large swing off of her butterbeer. "If we went to a pub it wouldn't be cozy and private, would it?"

I had to admit it wouldn't. Wilda and Maud had excused themselves about an hour ago. Amy, thankfully, didn't bother to show up. Unlike the more raucous parties, this one was fairly tame. Evie, Owen and Corey were playing exploding snap while I sat on Ethan's lap talking to Adrian. Well, it was mostly Adrian and I doing the talking. Ethan, it turned out, was a quiet sort of drunk. The clock chimed midnight and the cards exploding, smouldering Owen's eyebrows.

I almost spilled my own drink laughing, when there was rapid knocking on the door. Adrian arched an eyebrow and leaned back on the sofa. Git. I placed my glass on the coffee table, squeezed Ethan's shoulder as I walked past him and opened the door.

Willow was standing on the other side, a large travel bag in one hand, and a lamp on the other. I didn't have enough time to even feel stunned when she marched past me and dropped the bag on the floor. It sounded like she had packed bricks. I just hoped it didn't dent the floors. "What's happening?"

Willow's eyes darted across the room. The music from the radio was still playing, but everyone was staring at her. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Why?"

She sighed and shuffled her feet. "I left Marcus."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 - Left

I choked on my own saliva. "What?"

She threw me an annoyed look and tapped her foot; her hands were clutching at the sides of her waist. "I left him," she said with a slight tone of hysteria. "Can we please get out of the spotlight?"

I nodded and opened the door to my room. Willow marched in, leaving the oversized bag on the floor. I threw Adrian a warning glance which he returned with a nod. "Pass me a bottle of firewhiskey."

"Accio firewhiskey," there was a pause, and then a bottle zoomed in from Adrian's room towards his hand. He caught it and tossed it towards me. I saw it falling towards me and I crossed my arms in front of my head knowing I'd never catch it. My eyes were closed, expecting the impact of glass against my skin – which never came.

When I opened my eyes, the bottle was suspended in front of my face by a hand. I twitched my eyesight to the side. Oliver was holding onto the bottle, looking serious. "Thanks," I mumbled and took it from him, scurrying over to my room. Willow was pacing back and forwards, her heeled boots leaving traces of melting snow on the floor. I cringed. Her head snapped towards me when I closed the door behind me, and I offered the bottle to her. She wrenched it from my grip, opened it and took a long sip. I walked over to my bed and sat down. "So, what happened?"

Willow threw me a nasty glare, still drinking up. She placed the bottle on my vanity and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "He's such a git. I don't know what I've ever seen in him."

I shrugged. "Where's Ryan?"

"I had left him at my parent's house before the fight," she waved her hand at me. "We are talking about me here, not my kid."

"What did he do now then?" I vaguely remembered that conversation we had a couple of months ago, when she thought she was pregnant. My eyes bogged out of their sockets. "Merlin, woman, you drank like half the bleeding bottle and-" my eyes travelled south to her flat stomach.

Willow laughed mercilessly. "False alarm. It happens," she finished with a shrug and another large mouthful of alcohol. I cringed; Willow was a light drinker, always having played mother hen to the rest of us while in Hogwarts. I waited patiently while she finished chugging the contents of the bottle, figuring it was probably safer to let her rant at this point. "He's so- arg, frustrating!"

"He _is_ bloke," and a Flint – the top two qualities why I hadn't wanted to marry him.

"You know what he said to me?" I shrugged. "He tried to tell me what I could or could not do with my life! As if he _owned_ me. I gave up years of my life to that tosser – and my stomach will never be flat again, I can't even wear a bikini, not that we go on vacation an awful lot because he is always ruddy working!"

I wanted to put fingers in my ears to stop her screeching from leaving me deaf. "And I am home, bored. Ryan is in preschool and there is nothing to do at the house! And it is my dream, Elizabeth- he can't tell me what to do!" she stomped her foot on the floor and fell down on a chair. For a moment, she held my gaze before she broke into sobs. With a sigh, I stood up and wrapped a careful arm around her shaking shoulders.

Curiosity was consuming me. "What did he try to tell you not to do?"

Her red-rimmed eyes flashed with fury. She slammed her fist against her thighs. "He said I couldn't open my own business."

I blinked and she rolled her eyes. "I told you! But you never listen, you are so interested only in the goings of Elizabeth's life that-"

"You mean the tea shop?" I ventured, hoping my memory didn't fail me.

"Yes! The bloody tea shop that I've always wanted to open!" I recalled Willow telling me about her idea of opening one when she kidnapped me for fake-Christmas shopping. "I found a place and everything – Rowan will be baker and I can be hostess and read tarot card for customers and-"

"Who's Rowan?"

She threw me a glare that could have gotten Minerva McGonagall to cower. "My ruddy sister."

I searched my brain for memories of this Rowan and landed nothing. She rolled her eyes. "The Hufflepuff – three years younger than us? She was at my wedding!"

"Oh, that Rowan," I recalled a plain-looking girl with mouse-brown hair and pale green eyes. I had no idea she was a Hufflepuff, but that explained why she wasn't much in my radar.

"She finished pastry-chef schooling," Willow continued, "and we found a fantastic space just outside Diagon Alley – we can cater to wizards _and_ muggles and it's such a quaint little thing, from about a century ago. Needs some repair, but we can manage that and then-" but her sobbing kept her from continuing. I rubbed circles on her back. "Why can't I have it all? I thought he understood – I love being a wife and a mother, but I have more ambition than that."

I kept my mouth shut, not really knowing what to say. Willow had gotten herself pregnant at the tender age of seventeen just to marry the bloke she loved; she hadn't had time to find a job, what with the baby and then the war. I had always thought she was happy with just that – that it was what she had always wanted. " _And we had spoken about it, how we both wanted a large house with a nice garden and lots of children. And a dog."_ That's how she had explained her madness to me. I never knew she wanted more. As far as I knew, she didn't even have the dog yet.

"Do you want to speak with Adrian?"

"Why would I want to speak to Pucey for?"

I shrugged. "He has a surprisingly high emotional IQ. I'm sort of stupid with that."

"If that were the only thing you're stupid about. Who was that bloke you were giving a lap dance to?"

My cheeks reddened. "Ethan Sweeting, my boyfriend."  
Willow rolled her eyes. "You are denser than my soon to be ex-husband, Elizabeth." I tried not to take offense and remember that I was supposed to be here for her, not to defend my pride. "You are right on one account, though."

"Oh yeah?"

"Talking to you is bloody useless, I'm going to get more alcohol," she stood up and walked out of my room, leaving me confused. I shook my head and followed her. Adrian and Oliver surrounded me like bees on a thief-bear.

"What's the scoop?" Adrian said.

"Flint wants her to focus on being a mother and a wife – but she wants to open a tea shop with her sister."  
Oliver looked startled. "She has a sister."

"Hell if I know," I replied, pushing some hair behind my ear. "How long d'you reckon we have until our door is blasted open?"

Adrian looked at his wristwatch. "Twenty minutes if we are being optimistic." I sighed; that wasn't optimistic at all. Someone tapped my shoulder.

"Elizabeth?" Ethan was looking rather concerned, his eyes were narrowed and his lips set to a fine line.

"Yes?"

"Is that the friend you said was married?" I nodded. For the time being. "Then why is she flirting with Bradley?" I pushed Ethan aside with the speed of a snitch. My jaw dropped. Willow was sitting by the breakfast bar, her long legs crossed and one hand reaching towards Luke's knee. She had a new glass in her hand, and Luke was refilling it religiously.

"That's not good," Oliver said.

There was loud banging on the door. "No," I said biting my lower lip. " _That's_ not good."

Everyone in the room (except for Willow and Luke who were giggling over their firewhiskey glasses), turned around, alarmed at the sound of the door's hinges about to break. "OPEN THE DOOR!"

"Oh dear."

"You don't think he's actually going to break it, do you?" Oliver said, glancing back between the door and the foolishly drunk woman. I rolled my eyes. "You are right. The neighbours are going to be pissed."

"That, is the least of my concerns," I managed to squeeze in before the door was blasted open. Adrian and Oliver threw their arms around me, sandwiching me between them as splinters of wood flew around us. I heard Ethan grunt.

"Willow."

"Oh dear," I mumbled, watching Flint's face go from furious to irate from beneath Adrian's arm. He stood by the broken door for a moment and then, like a wounded, beast, he stomped through the length of our living room and seized Luke by the back of his collar, throwing him off balance and on the floor. I scrunched my eyes shut as he screamed. Maud would have an aneurysm if her chaser couldn't play next week because of a broken tailbone, gratitude of an enraged husband.

"What the hell are you doing?" Willow and Flint yelled at each other simultaneously. Willow was standing precariously, leaning heavily against the wall to support herself. Flint was still holding onto a pained-looking Luke.

"Who the hell is this bastard, and why did he have his hand on your knee?" he pulled Luke up, making him whimper in pain. Willow said nothing. "Give me one good reason not to bloody maul him to a-"

Owen had clasped his arm behind Flint's neck and was pulling him back; Flint tried to kick him, but only ended up stumbling, dragging Luke a couple of inches backwards as the three blokes almost fell. "Let go!"

"Not until you let Luke go," Owen said, barely winded. He was easily a head taller than Flint, and about as wide as Flint and Oliver placed side by side. Flint's eyes narrowed.

"I'm going to murder the mo-"

"Then you'll go nowhere."

Adrian nudged me on the ribs. I sighed and walked past a stupefied Ethan; Evie screeched beside me not to get close, but the situation required some finesse. "Flint, let go unless you want to end up in the morgue tonight."

"He was touching my wife-"

I rolled my eyes. "She's a grown, drunk-as-hell woman who is madly in love with you, Merlin knows _why_ -"

Willow snorted. "I left you, you old codger! You can't come in and tell me what to do."

Flint fought against Owen, but the bigger bloke pushed him back. When he spoke, his voice sounded winded. "Till death do us part woman! Or does that mean nothing to you."

Willow flipped her hair backwards, stumbled and had to steady herself. She removed her wedding band from her left hand and threw it to Flint. It hit him square on the cheek before it fell down on the floor, echoing of hurt. "That's what I think-" her legs tangled with the chairs and she fell, hitting her head against the wall.

Silence reigned over the room, except for Flint's broken breathing. Willow was trying to pull herself up without much success. There was another dead thud when Flint let go of Luke's collar, and the chaser fell down on the floor. I could hear my own heartbeat thumping inside my head. She threw him the ring? Merlin, I never guessed she was this serious.

"You can't be serious," Flint said, echoing my thoughts. He disentangled himself from Owen's grip, who appeared just as shell-shocked as the rest of us to fight back, and walked towards his struggling wife. She threw him a death glare. "Willow-"

"Go to hell," her hand slipped from her tenuous grip on the countertop, and she banged her head back against the chair. Instead of taking her advice, Flint edged towards her. The closer he got, the more Willow tried to pass right through the wall. "Marcus-"

"I'm sorry," he crouched next to her and tried to grab one of her hands, but she slapped him away. There were tears running down her face, and even Flint was sobbing. I turned around, feeling embarrassed. Owen was soundlessly making his way back to where Evie was sitting; Adrian, like me, was stupefied by the entrance. There was a hole where the door used to be. "I'm so sorry – I didn't realise-"

I gritted my teeth and walked backwards to put some distance. Talk about things escalating quickly. Flint was speaking quickly, but I couldn't (rather, didn't want to) hear whatever he was saying. I picked up the fallen ring and placed it on the counter, before hooking my arm through Ethan and Adrian's and pulling them outside.

Corey and Oliver were trying to calm some of the muggle neighbors down. Corey was insisting there was no need to call the police – whatever that was. "Should we confound them?" I asked Adrian. He shrugged, but I saw him grab his wand, inside the pocket of his hoodie, and aim it at the two blokes and elderly woman who were shouting at Corey. It was rather funny to watch their faces transfigure from ferocious to whimsical. Oliver threw us a 'thank-you' look from over his shoulder.

"Just hope the ministry doesn't get a wisp of the spell," Ethan said. He was looking straight at Adrian, who arched an eyebrow, and holding onto the back of my arm. "They've tightened the rules about jinxing muggles."

"It's a harmless spell," Adrian said. "We are basically saving them the trouble of coming here to fix this," he pointed towards the blasted door with his hand. Ethan huffed but said nothing. I looked over at each of them, wondering what I missed.

Evie and Owen came outside, giggling. "What happened?"

"Let's say you won't be able to sleep in your room tonight," Evie was laughing so hard she had to hold onto the side of her stomach. Owen too. I rolled my eyes and walked between them back into the flat.

The living room was empty; the tumbled chairs were still tumbled. Only Luke was there, resting on the sofa. I approached him. "How are you doing?"  
"Bloody amazing, how d'you think?" he spat. I caught a glimpse of a firewhiskey bottle in his hand. "My arse feels broken all over again."

"Would you like me to take a look at it?" Ethan said, startling me. I hadn't noticed he had followed me into the flat. I could hear voices outside, arguing about the best way to repair the door.

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Don't take it the wrong way, mate, but I don't really sway that way-"

"I'm a healer at St. Mungo's."

"Then lead the way," Luke finished drinking what was left in the bottle and slammed it on the coffee table. He stood up like an eighty year old man and looked at me expectantly.

"My room's busy, pick and choose," I waved my hand towards the hallway and turned my attention to some broken glass on the floor. My wand was in my room, which was occupied. I cringed. Luke had opened the door to Corey's room and walked in. Ethan was still standing by my side.

"Lisa?"

"Mmh?"

He grabbed my chin and brought my face near his. I closed my eyes as his lips caressed mine. He pulled away and walked off to where Luke was waiting much too fast. When I opened my eyes, it was to see my three flatmates dropping themselves on the sofa. The door was restored, but some of the painting on the walls was still chipped. It could wait till morning, I told myself, and nudged Oliver and Adrian to make a space.

I leaned backwards and closed my eyes, relishing in the warmth of the bodies beside me. "What a ruddy night," Adrian muttered. I nodded. Who would have thought that Willow would threaten to leave Flint –and mean it? By Merlin, those two were as mad about each other as they were insane.

I was beginning to drift asleep when I heard a door open. Jumping, I turned around; hitting Adrian in the gut, but it was only Luke and Ethan coming out. Luke was walking a lot straighter. "Please tell me you'll be able to play," Oliver said. I rolled my eyes. Bloody predictable.

Luke flashed him a winning grin. "Please, I need more than a broken arse not to play. But-," he yawned, "I need my beauty sleep. Where'd the beater go?"

"Home."

"Lucky bastards," Luke said goodbye to everyone before disappearing. Ethan walked towards the back of the sofa. I extended my hand to intertwine it with his. Corey jumped to his feet and rushed to his room. Oliver threw me an amused glance before bidding everyone good night.

"Do you think your friends are alright?" he asked. Beside me, Adrian was beginning to snore.

I shrugged. "They seem to be in my room at the moment – I'm going to have to burn those sheets."

He looked over to the hidden door. "I'm surprised he took her back after what she did."

I yawned. "Throw the ring at him? He was lucky she was drunk, or it would have torn an eye."

"I meant the cheating," Ethan took a seat next to me; eying Adrian's sleeping form with annoyance. "I don't think I would be so easy to forgive if I had caught my wife playing tootsie with another bloke."

Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the night or some Gryffindoresk sense of loyalty kicking him, but I didn't like that. I pulled my hand away from him, putting some distance between us. My foot collided against Adrian who woke up with a jump. "Fine, be like that," he muttered and pushed himself off of the sofa. I didn't speak until we were alone.

"What do you mean by that?"

Ethan scratched the back of his head. "That she was all over Luke," his mouth twisted in disgust. "For Merlin sake's."

"You have no right to judge her," I said, pulling back so there was ample space between us. I tucked my legs beneath my bum and crossed my arms. Ethan sighed and extended his hand, but I didn't take it.

"Don't you get mad now."

"Or what? You may not be so forgiving?"

"Are you telling me you think her behaviour was reasonable given the circumstances?"  
My teeth gritted. "You don't even know what the circumstances were-"

"She was drunk, I suppose that's an excuse, but she should have been more careful not to-"

"And maybe you need to stop being a judgemental pig," I screeched standing up. My arms were still tightly crossed at my chest, and I could feel it heaving with the force of every exhalation. "You have no clue what that girl has given up- what she has _done_ \- for that idiot of a man. You don't even _know_ them."

"No, but I know that who you choose as your friends are a reflection of who you are," he too had stood up and was facing me. I bristled. How dare he judge me? My mouth opened, but there were so many insults racing through my head that I couldn't fathom where to start. I shook my head and turned around, towards the kitchen.

"You know where the door is."

"Elizabeth-"

"My friends," I whirled, marching right up to him with a menacing pointing finger. I poked him in the chest. "Have been there for me for ages. And Willow – Willow is the reason why I am up and walking, instead of sleeping my life away. So don't you dare say a word against her," I finished, feeling my lips curling over my teeth. Ethan stared at me with an expressionless face. "You need to leave now."

"You don't understand-"

"Of course not, I'm being hysterical, aren't I?"

"Just a bit unreasonable."

"Close the door behind you."

"Elizabeth-"

"Go," he looked exasperated, not angry or annoyed. I watching him grab his clock and put it around his neck. He opened the door and stood by the threshold, looking at me over his shoulder.

"We'll talk in the morning." I didn't reply. "Goodnight, Lisa," and with that, he was gone, and I was left fuming, my hands balled into tight fists, feeling unbalanced. The nerve of him! What a slimy, misogynistic toad I would

"Sarah?" I whirled to see Oliver, clad in his usual sleepwear and holding a blanket and a pillow. "What's got your knickers in a twist now?"

"Do you think Willow was behaving like a tramp tonight?"

Oliver looked taken aback. He scratched the back of his neck, dropping the pillow to the floor. "Blimey, I don't know. She was drunk wasn't she? I don't think she'd flirt with Luke if whatever Flint did wasn't serious."

"He tried to dictate her life," I said through gritted teeth, trying to convey some of my outrage with my words. Oliver lifted both hands in a sign of surrender.

"It's their relationship, I can't judge," my breathing began abating and I sat back down, holding my head in between my legs. Oliver took a seat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Ethan's a pig."

He snorted. "Did he call her a tramp?"

"No," I said, fiddling with a loose threat on my trousers. "But he made it plain he didn't approve of her."

"Well, for a first impression, that wasn't very good."

"He thinks my friends are odd," and that it reflects back on me. But I didn't say that. Oliver simply laughed.

"He's right about that, isn't he? Just talk to him when you are both rested and I dunno, go on a double date with the Flint's or something – although that will confirm his suspicion that Willow is gaga."

I laughed and straightened up. Oliver was smiling, and only a couple of inches away from me. Feeling like I was sitting on hot coals, I sprung up to my feet. That's when I noticed, he wasn't wearing any shirt. Bugger. "What's all this?" I pointed at the scarlet blanket and matching pillow.

"Parchment thin walls, remember?" he crooked an eyebrow and pointed towards my bedroom door with a thumb. "I'd rather not have nightmares of their making up."

I felt a shudder run through me. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

Oliver shrugged and pulled his blanked over the sofa. "I'm calling dibs." I threw him a wet-puppy eye but he shook his head. "I had a long arduous Quidditch match today. My back's already going to be sore in the morning as is."

I huffed, but knew it was true. "Can I steal a shirt then?" I motioned towards my crumpled outfit. Since my bedroom was occupied, I couldn't retrieve anything comfortable to wear. Oliver nodded and I walked towards his room. It was decorated similar to his old room back at his parent's house. There was a large Gryffindor banner on one wall and a Puddlemere crest on another. I shook my head, boys will be boys, and ransacked through his closet to find something suitable for sleeping in and that didn't smell of sweat. I pulled out a rather long shirt and began to undress, when the thought occurred to me that I would be sleeping in close proximity to a scantily clad Oliver Wood.

"Bugger."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 – Bargained

Ethan showed up early the next morning. He was carrying flowers and breakfast. He didn't say anything about my sleep attire (a shirt that reached three inches down my bum) or Oliver's lack-of. As soon as he had munched down on some scrambled eggs, Oliver made himself scarce saying something about a shower. I threw him an angry look, which he returned with a wink.

Tosser.

"I guess your room wasn't made available last night," he said picking at his plate of eggs. I glanced down at mine – I had barely touched them, and then back at him. To say the truth, it was rather nice that he brought breakfast for the entire household. There was a dozen scones, enough eggs and bacon that all three Quidditch players could be satisfied (which was a lot, considering they had the appetite of famished dragons), muffins, pumpkin juice, and brewed tea. It reminded me back of Hogwarts, when house elves would cook for me. Except now it wasn't a small creature with bat-like ears feeding me, but a boyfriend with his tail between his legs.

I gave him a noncommittal grunt, and slammed my fork on a piece of egg. Ethan sighed. "I get last night was mental and perhaps a little too much to-"

But Ethan's speech was interrupted by a bunch of giggles, followed by a loud thump and then more giggles. My bedroom's door swung open, and Willow and Flint came out laughing and throwing disgusting kisses at each other. They hadn't noticed us; in fact, Willow hadn't even bothered to pat her wild hair down and Flint's shirt was still crooked. I cleared my throat.

Both of them jumped at stared at us. Ethan was blushing considerable. Willow gave me a sheepish grin, but Flint's eyes were focused on the table. "Food!" he said and pulled Willow by the arm towards the kitchen. He pulled out the last two chairs and sat down, grabbing the box with the scones and biting into one with all the fury of a basilik.

Willow took a seat next to her husband and helped herself to a muffin. The ring was back on her ring-finger, and she was full of post-coital glow. "This is delicious. Did you learn to bake?"

I wanted her to combust into flames on the spot. "Ethan bought breakfast."

Her eyes flickered towards Ethan, who had just stuffed some eggs on his mouth. He choked and coughed, and I offered him a glass of pumpkin juice which he drowned. He cleared his throat. "I don't think we got the chance to be properly introduced last night. Ethan Sweeting," he offered his hand to Willow who looked at it for a moment before shaking it.

"Willow Flint. And this ogre here is my husband, Marcus," Flint's head was bent down throwing eggs into his mouth at an appalling speed. Pieces of scrambled eggs kept flying out of his mouth and landing on my countertop. Willow smacked his arm. He looked up, his mouth so full eggs were still coming off. I winced and stood up, grabbing my plate to get it cleaned. "Normally he doesn't have the table manners of a flobberworm," she pinned her husband with an icy glare.

Flint straightened up. He offered Ethan his hand, while still chewing on his food. I turned my eyes away, torn between disgust and fury. Two more doors opened up before anyone could say anything, and Adrian and Corey appeared into view. Adrian was wearing an old Kernell's shirt, from way back when he thought he could only support a Quidditch team whose colors were Slytherin grin. Corey, on the other hand, was wearing a purple silk pajama set.

"Breakfast!" they said in unison. Adrian hurried over and stole the chair I had been using from right beneath Corey's nose. The younger bloke shrugged and with a wave of his hand made a new chair with a comfier-looking cushion on it appear.

"This looks like the Hogwarts elves made it," Corey said with a wide grin.

Adrian snorted. "Ethan brought it," Willow said, sending him a small smile. The corners of his lips twitched upwards and he send me a pleading glance but I didn't bother to come to his rescue. Adrian slapped him on his back.

"Elizabeth, keep this one. I like it – he brings food." I rolled my eyes and dumped my dish on the sink, not even bothering to turn the tap on or magically clean it. Oliver came out of the shower, no longer shirtless, and hovered around, sneaking a scone from beneath Adrian's nose when he wasn't looking. Everyone was laughing and talking, as if we really were having breakfast at the Slytherin table on a Sunday morning with nothing more important than N.E.W.T.'s to worry around.

That is, everyone except me. I was leaning against the countertop, watching all my friends interacting and trying to include Ethan into the conversation when it got too riddled with inside-jokes and 'remember when's'. I was watching the snow falling from the neighbors' rooftop out of the window. "You mean Lisa didn't tell you she was supposed to be Mrs. Flint?"

My eyes snapped back to Adrian. He was brandishing a muffing like a maestro's baton; his eyes were glimmering with laughter-induced tears. "Blimey, Lisa, what other skeletons haven't you told him about?" I threw a dirty rug his way, but he ducked and laughed. Feeling my veins ignite with a murderous rage, and knowing I didn't want to end up in Azkaban, I walked out of the kitchen and towards my room, with the intention of cleaning up whatever mess Willow and Flint had done.

I scrunched up my nose the moment I entered. My bed was in complete disarray; a pillowcase was hanging from the top of my wardrobe and my desk-chair was tumbled over. I didn't want to know. I reached for my wand lying on top of the desk and began cleaning up. Cleaning was meditational, relaxing, and muggle cleaning was (for most purposes) even more so – but I didn't want to risk touching anything until it had been magically scrubbed or burned, depending on the circumstance.

The sounds of conversation and cluttering utensils were drowned with the closed door. I opened the windows, letting the chilly January air in and took a deep breath; it froze in my lungs, making me choke but it was helping to remove the smell of stale air that was lingering on the walls. I was trying to decide whether I should attempt to clean the blankets or just bill the Flints for a new set when there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said making the blankets fly into a large ball of fabric and putting it on fire. I watched them burn with satisfaction.

"I reckon that is the most hygiene way of taking care of _that_ mess," Ethan said. I heard him close the door behind me. My face was warming up with the heat of the burning blankets. "Do you need any help?"

I shrugged, watching the fire burn itself down. "I'm pretty much done. Need to put in clean sheets."

I turned around; Ethan was standing by the door, his hands tucked inside his trousers' pockets. His dark hair was tousled and his cheeks a little warmed up. I realized, this was the first time he had been inside my room, and it still looked like the Battle of Hogwarts had been re-enacted here – mind you, a lot kinkier. My sheets and furniture were the only casualties. "You know, your friends really do seem nice."

I arched an eyebrow. "A bit too boisterous – but nice overall," I arched another eyebrow. He run a hand through his hair and stepped closer. "Look, I realize I was a right git last night," I nodded, crossing my arms tight across my chest. "It's just, Merlin, I was with this girl for most of our Hogwarts years. After I got my license I asked her to marry me and she said yes. Two months later she broke it off, and I found out she was seeing one of my old classmates. She had been seeing him for a couple of years, actually."

His eyes were fixed on the floor. I wanted to reach out to him and tousle his hair a little more, but I couldn't deny that I was still upset. "When I saw your friend flirting with the other bloke – I guess it brought me memories and I freaked-"

I snorted. "Thinking that I would be a cheat too?"

He bit his lip. "You didn't exactly seem concerned."

"She's a big girl, she knows what she is doing," I said with a shrug. "And like I told you last night, she's done more for that man than you know."  
"I understand better now," his eyes lifted, and my throat closed. A small smile adorned his lips. One of his hands reached forward to tuck some loose hair behind my ear, the other one cupped my cheek. "And I'm sorry – I've always been told I'm fast to jump to conclusions."

"Mmmhm."

Ethan's hand moved downwards, to rest on my lower back. My arms were still a tangle, keeping some distance between our bodies. "Is there any way I can make it up? I'm willing to spend as much time with your friends as necessary to convince you I am rather serious about you-about us."

I searched his face for any telltale sign of dishonesty; a twitching eyelid, a mocking mouth, but I found none. Oliver's words from last night jumped into my head. " _Just give the bloke a chance_." With a sigh, I untangled my arms and laid them on his mid-back. "I'll think of some way you can make it up to me."  
Ethan grinned; the hand on my low back pushed me closer, until my chest bumped against his. His run a brought thumb over the outline of my mouth, giving me shivers, before placing his lips on mine. My eyes closed, and my hands snaked through his back, bringing him closer.

When we parted, I surprised myself with being out of breath, and I recalled Adrian's and Corey's jab about us being past the third date. I blushed. "So," he said, pushing my fringe away from my eyes, there was a mocking tone to his voice, "you were engaged to Flint huh?"

I whacked him on the back of the head with a small, nervous chuckle.

oOo

I was sorting through some of the newer articles we had received for the next issue when Kathryn slammed both her palms on my desk. I looked upwards and recoiled. She was wearing a lopsided manic grin, her bright white teeth were glinting. I gulped. Literally.

"Eliza, darling," she stretched the last word like a purr. "Just the person I've been dying to see."

"I've been slaved here going over the massive amount of work you gave me," I replied with a saccharine smile. I wanted to add that it was really her job to pour over the endless amount of articles from rooky writers and seasoned ones alike that poured to Witch Weekly on an almost daily basis. If I had to read another article on _shoes_ , I may just have to give up my favorite hobby.

Kathryn waved her hand and perched herself on the corner of my desk, crossing her legs at the knees. I had just read an article about the sexiest way to cross ones legs – and another about how bad it was for circulation. I shook my head. "I have _just_ the thing that will get you out of your misery."

I crooked an eyebrow. "I'm not miserable."

"Of course you are," she said with another flippant wave of her hand, followed by a high-pitched, girly giggle. "You _hate_ sorting my mail and feeding my owl, don't lie," I shrugged. It was true; working at Witch Weekly had been my dream since I was old enough to read the magazines, but I never imagined I'd have to persuade Kathryn's owl to let me wash him after he got caught in a snowstorm. "Which is why I have a bargain for you I just know you'll love!" she squealed.

I snorted. "Are you sure that is a wise idea, with me being a Slytherin and all?"

"That's precisely why I know you won't refuse me," she leaned in until I could see the specks of mascara left over on her eyelashes. "What would you say if I gave you the opportunity to edit an entire editorial, not on shoes and handbags, but on the women who fought during the battle?"

My ears perked up. "What does it entail?"

Kathryn straightened up. "Working with the future head of Witch Weekly's new monthly section: Thoughts and Views, Jimbo Howell."

My eyes popped out their sockets and I stood up, pushing my chair back with my calves. "You mean the prophesised department aimed at increasing Witch Weekly's readers intellect is coming to fruition?" Kathryn nodded and clapped her hands. I felt my stomach and chest inflate like a balloon.

"And he's testing writers and editors, I hear it's going to be a very selective process," she said, her tone turning serious. "For now it is just trials – the section will be running some article son the current political climate, how everyone thinks Kingsley Shacklebolt is doing, whether the post-war economic boom is slowing- general, surface, every day topics that every witch should be up to date with," she paused to breath in. "I don't know what the future plans are, Miranda is being highly secretive. But I reckon it's going to be big," her eyes popped like a frog's.

"And you want me to edit an article for the trials?"

Kathryn gave me a patronizing look. "It's a test article, Eliza. All junior and senior editors are being asked to pick a few writers and editors to work on their own version and submit it for review. They'll select the team for the department from their submissions."

"And you are putting my name forward."

"Not without something in return," she said, a wolfish grin spreading through her beautiful features. I should have felt apprehension, wariness, but let's face it: I'm a ruddy Slytherin.

"What is it?"

Kathryn licked her lips open. "I want a date with Oliver Wood; not just _any_ date, I want him to be my date for next week's event." Someone had just thrown a bunch of pebbles inside my stomach. She wanted Oliver to accompany her to the Golden Words – the largest event in Wizarding publishing, where everyone who was anyone went? I blinked. Of course she did. Who bloody wouldn't want to be accompanied by Witch Weekly's second hottest Quidditch Bachelor to one of the largest events of the year? "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"The Golden Words are in a _week_ ," I tried to protest.

"And you won't be going anyway, because you'll be home scrambling to finish a fantastic article to further your career. Where is your sense of ambition, Eliza? You do want to move up the ladder, don't you?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. It wouldn't be too hard to get Oliver to agree – it was just one night, and the publicity for Puddlemere could be phenomenal. Besides, he needed to leave the apartment for things other than practice and matches. Watching the telly with Adrian every night wasn't healthy. And Kathryn was beautiful – if s little mental. I would be doing him a favour really.

"We have a deal."

oOo

"Oliver _please!_ I'm begging you-" I was chasing Oliver around the flat. I had tried bribing, blackmailing, and plain old asking – but nothing was working. I was reduced to yanking on his arm to get him to pay me any attention.

So far, it wasn't working. "I'm not a toy you can led out-"

"I'll pay you!"

"-it's bad enough I've signed those creepy Christmas cards for you-"

"I'll plagiarise them next time!"

"-I just don't like blind dates-"

"Think about it as a business transaction," I grabbed a hold of his arm and looked up at him. He didn't appear angry, maybe a tad frustrated. I pulled on the sleeve of his shirt. And he sighed. I knew I had won. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him closely. He patted my upper back. "Thank you thank you thank you-"

"You owe me."

oOo

The night of the Golden Words arrived. As Kathryn had predicted, I was stuck scrambling to write the test article. My instructions were simple: a two parchment piece on a woman I admired. I had no idea who else was trying out for the positions at the future department of Thoughts and Views, so I had no idea what anyone else was doing. Not knowing who I was competing against, I felt really exposed.

I sighed and pushed my untouched piece of parchment aside so I could lay my head against the cold countertop. Gwen and Corey were watching something on the telly, laughing. I had told Ethan I couldn't go out this weekend as Kathryn had really only given me the one week to write the article that could further my career.

Every time I looked at the clock, I regretted my decision.

Oliver had left a couple of hours ago, all smartened up to meet his blind date – my conniving, obsessed boss. "No luck?"

I pushed my fringe aside, looking up. Gwen was grinning and holding a large bowl full of popcorn. She lowered it down for me to reach inside it. I chewed on the popcorn thoughtfully. "Regarding what, exactly?"

She snorted. "I was talking about your work assignment – we can always discuss the other issue if you'd like," she looked behind her towards the clock. It was twenty past twelve.

"I have no idea what to write about." Gwen shrugged and popped some popcorn into her mouth. I glared at her. "Can I write about fictional characters?"

"Have you thought about just interviewing someone and pretending you admire them?"

I choked on the popcorn. That was it – interview someone. My eyes flickered over to my cousin who was about to drop some more food into her mouth. She stopped half-way, her hand hovering over the bowl. "No, you don't."

"Please!"

"Elizabeth no."

I stood up and walked around the breakfast table. I grabbed the bowl from her hands and placed it on the countertop to get a hold of both her hands into prayer position. "I guarantee you, nobody else will think of interviewing someone like you."

She grunted. "Is that supposed to convince me?"

"You are young, you were in Dumbledore's army, you lived through the Carrows and you fought in the war- but you aren't like, Hermione Granger or Ginny Weasley – no one's heard the voices of those students who aren't world-renowned war heroes."

I could tell that the idea had sparked something. Gwen's eyes were looking upwards, as if she was inspecting the popcorn ceiling. "Don't you want your effort, and those of the other students, to also be heard – and not just overshadowed?" Gwen blinked and looked down. My grin increased at the same time as a timid one began appearing through the corner of her mouth. I slung my arms around her, hugging her. "Thank you, thank you!"

"You better make me sound more awesome than it really was," she said with a laugh. I placed my hands on her shoulders and forced her to take a seat in front of me. I grabbed my tossed parchment and dipped my quill into the ink, thinking of a good first question.

"Was there anything that was good, something that kept your hope alive during your last year? And please don't tell me you were putting all your galleons on Potter."

"Chocolate frogs, actually."

"Chocolate frogs? That's… odd, but good. Why chocolate frogs?"

Gwen blushed and began spinning a tale. "Every morning I got a chocolate frog in the mail. No note, no nothing. Just a chocolate frog. Hogwarts under the Carrows was a ruddy nightmare, they were like two walking stupid dementors, zapping everything that made Hogwarts a wonderful place, but giving you hope that if all Death Eaters were as dumb, the war could be won," she said with a small laugh. "Ravenclaws aren't Gryffindors, we didn't kid ourselves into thinking that things would turn out too great. And well, I was in Dumbledore's Army but my family had Death Eater connections and I just felt like I had no one to talk to, especially after my parents were murdered and Francis stopped owling me for safety reasons. The chocolate frogs told me there was someone out there that cared. They gave me hope."

I scribbled notes down as fast as I could, not bothering to confront her about some of her blatant lies. Eating chocolate made her feel happier, forget the cruciatus curse she had received the day after? As if, there was a better story behind _that_ than she was telling – but the more she talked, the less contrived the story sounded, and the more I began to believe she was telling me the truth; mostly the knowledge of the sender, whom Gwen claimed to have complete ignorance.

Oliver came home early the next morning, around seven. Gwen and I had spoken about the war like never before until close to three, when she fell asleep. Corey was long passed out in the sofa. But I couldn't sleep, she had given me the perfect idea and I needed to perfect it while the adrenaline was still fresh in my veins.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 – Frozen

Kathryn had deemed her date with Oliver a success; she was telling everyone who would listen (or whom she could corner) about it in disgusting detail. I wasn't too surprised. Oliver could've spilled his drink on her and called her names and she would probably still swoon over him. What did surprise me was when she said they had agreed to meet again on Thursday. And then the week after. And the one after that. In fact, Oliver Wood and Kathryn Wotton had been photograph exciting the Secret Society's Theatre for the Arts just last Friday.

Which is why I was even more surprised when Oliver was home on Valentine 's Day weekend.

It was ten in the morning, and already Adrian had hurried out of the flat, dressed up for Merlin-knows-what. The kid hadn't had a real 'date' since I moved in back in August. Corey also wasn't home, so I guessed he was spending time with my cousin doing whatever they did. I had to say, it would be rather cute for them to spend their first Valentine's together, especially since most of the time they spent as a couple was watching the telly in the living room.

Ethan was working. He said he'd make it up on Friday. Therefore, I was intending on making pancakes and submerging myself on a new book I had picked up just for the occasion. That is, when all my plans got wrecked in the space of five minutes.

Oliver walked out of his room, still dressed in his pajamas, although he had a shirt on today for a change. He yawned before opening the fridge. "We are out of milk, if that's what you're looking for," I said motioning towards the pancake mix in a bowl. A spoon was beating at it while I heated up the stove.

"Did you make enough of those to share?"

I shrugged. "We can always duplicate them. Once you have the food-"

"Yada yada yada, I know. I got an E on my Transfiguration N.E.W.T., thank you."

I gave him a crooked grin while I supervised the mix being poured on the skillet. "You _are_ welcome," after all, git wouldn't have passed the test without my help. He seemed to get the point because he quietly walked around the breakfast table and took a seat. I finished making the pancakes in silence, and by finished making, I mean I directed all the cooking utensils according to the recipe in Most Wondrous Food Spells and Witch Weekly articles Corey had handpicked from years of subscribing.

I stacked them up on two plates, grabbed some honey and sat down to eat. Oliver had turned the telly on, and was checking the score of muggle football. I rolled my eyes and was going to comment on the obsession when there was a loud knock on the door. "Please tell me that's not Kathryn, I don't want to see her until I must tomorrow," and even that would be too soon. She was getting on my nerves, talking about how we should go on a double date (as if that wasn't weird), how handsome, considerate, and good kisser Oliver was (which was way weirder) and what she would name their kids (which was the weirdest).

Oliver shook his head and stabbed another piece of food. "She had to go home for something," he said with a shrug. "Told me what – but I forgot."  
I snorted. The knocking increased in tempo. "Figures," I stood up, pushing the chair behind me and walked towards the door, my sock-clad foot cold. I was expecting the milkman, or the mailman, maybe you-know-who dressed as cupid. But all I got was Willow – and her child.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," she said in that frenzied way of hers that had never given me good news.

"Morning Aunt Lisa!" Ryan chirped, trying to pull away from his mother, but she tightened her hold on his little hand.

"Morning," I drawled, my eyes darting from mother to child with a deep sense of foreboding. "I don't remember arranging a meeting… although I'm always glad to you see you, Ryan," I added, bending my knees to pat his cheek.

"That's great to hear because you'll be looking after him today," I stood up at once, my mouth faintly open. Willow grinned and let go of Ryan's hand. Without losing any time, he stuck himself to my legs, hugging my knees and burying his head on them. Where this kid found so much adoration for me was beyond me. I wasn't even his ruddy godmother, Willow's sister got that, even though I was the reason the kid was living.

Behind me I heard the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden flood. I leaned in so only Willow could hear me, "have you lost your mind?"

"Morning Oliver!" she chirped, making me lean back so I wouldn't' lose my hearing. Ryan released my legs and pushed them aside before rushing in. Olive greeted both of them back. "Of course I haven't lost my mind. Do you know when's the last time Marcus and I could enjoy a Valentine 's Day as a couple?"

I narrowed my eyes. "In my bedroom about a month ago!"

Willow crossed her arms over her chest. "That was make-up sex."

"So you're leaving your kid with me so you can have Valentine's sex"

She shook her head. "Our relationship goes deeper than that. Oh come on, Ethan's at work what other plans do you have?"

"A bought a new book."  
Willow snorted. "I'll pick him at seven," she turned around but I caught her by the arm. "What?"

"What am I supposed to do with him?" I hoped the anxiety didn't sound quite so loud when I spoke, because in my thoughts I was a wailing banshee. I had spent a good amount of time with the kid when Flint shipped him and his deranged mother to me for exile during the war. But I had never spent an entire eight hour day _alone_ with him. I almost wished Kathryn had been at the door.

Willow rolled her eyes and released her arm from my tenuous grip. "Feed him, go to a park, I don't know. Get him to run so he won't want to play tag with the house elf when we get home." Why do they have a house elf and I don't? Maybe I need to ask William to borrow our old one – the boys' washroom was beginning to sprout mushrooms.

Willow was already half-way down the stairs. I run after her, but she waved and disapparated. "Bugger, bugger, bugger," I scratched my head and returned to the flat. Oliver had transfigured one of our chairs into a five-year-old –child-friendly one and they were eating pancakes.

"So which Quidditch team do you like best?"

I rolled my eyes while I closed the door. "The Holyhead Harpies!" Ryan chirped. I smirked. Oliver gave me a condescending look over his shoulder.

"That was your doing, wasn't it?"

"I will take the credit for the kid having brains," I replied and took my seat back. Ryan was playing with his food, adding more syrup to the pancakes than necessary. I wondered if that amount of sugar was going to come bite me back in the arse.

"So I take it you have babysitting duty?" Oliver asked after breakfast was finished. Ryan was playing with the telly's remote. Oliver passed me the dishes and I dumped them into the sink. I leaned back against the opposite countertop, watching the sponge clean them.

"Yes, well, my life sucks," I flicked my wand to close the faucet before water began pouring out of the sink. "Are you seeing Kathryn today?"

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. Suddenly, my stomach felt clenched, like someone had dumped concrete on it and let it dry inside. Oliver shook his head. "I told you, she had some family business to attend to. And anyway, it would be too much of a commitment if we did, wouldn't it?" I nodded, feeling my intestines relax. Oliver grabbed an apple and bit into it. "Need help looking after him? It won't be long before the sugar gets him high."

I massaged my temples, feeling an incoming headache. Ryan had found some cartoon channel and was laughing at something a coyote was doing. This was going to be a long day…

Finding a place to eat on Valentine's day was a ruddy nightmare. Every pub, tea place, and decent-looking eatery on Diagon Alley was brimming with people. Most of the couples kissing, holding hands, I think I even glimpsed three diamond rings being hidden by nervous blokes. Some couples had brought their kids out for lunch as well. After several people gasped at Oliver, who had Ryan perched on his shoulders, we decided to make a bee-line for muggle London, where we could avoid nasty rumours.

Then, of course, came the issue of us not having any muggle money but having an increasingly irritated famished five-year old. After wandering London through the mush and the snow for what seemed like ages, we settled for a cheerful looking place that was only three-quarters full of happy couples and excited children.

There was no one waiting to seat us. Instead, muggles were lining up to a register counter and ordering from an oversized menu. The place was painted in reds and yellows, one more blinding than the other. I exchanged a wry look with Oliver while Ryan pulled my hand forward. "I reckon you just order your things from up there?" he whispered as we stood in line behind a teenage pair.

I shrugged, putting a finger to my lips. I wanted to hear and observe the odd muggle custom. I watched a single young woman with a small child come up to one of the employees manning the place. She looked up at the blinding oversized sign that featured images of several burgers and ordered something called a Big Mac and a happy meal with coke. I blinked.

I yanked Oliver by the neck of his coat to whisper in his ear. "Can you cast the confundus spell while I order?"

"How about I order, you do the spell work? You know I'm not one for subtlety," I released him with a nod and whispered instructions: basically, order whatever the couple in front of us asked, and then something for the kid.

When our turn came up, my palms were sweating. I had my wand hidden inside the sleeve of my jacket; my eyes were darting everywhere, wondering how in Salazar's name we were going to give the muggle-employee gold without anyone else noticing. However, each employee looked so hassled they may not remark on what their coworkers where doing. One could only hope.

I grabbed Oliver's arm and held on tight so I could aim my wand without it noticing. It did force me to almost glue my body to the side of his, but a girl does what a girl needs to do. Slytherin right? Oliver held onto Ryan's hand while attempting to sound casual. He was stuttering, so I suppose the façade wasn't working. "Um… two of those.. Big Macs? Yeah, two of those and the um… thing for the kid you know.. the um…"

"Two Big Macs and a Happy Meal?" the employee muttered in a bored tone. She punched some keys into some sort of machine. "What kind of toy would you like?"

"Excuse me?"

She raised a dark eyebrow to stare at Oliver with exasperation. My wand hand began shaking. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Oh um, a boy."

"That'll be eight pounds, please," she extended her arm. Oliver gulped and placed his hand on his pocket, fishing for some gold. I pretended to look at the neon signs and aimed my wand, whispering low enough that only Oliver heard me.

"Confundus," my eyes flickered back to the woman. She was blinking, her hand still outstretched when Oliver placed a few galleons on it. I stared at the employees around her, but no one seemed to notice. With a loud clink the machine in front of her opened up and she deposited the coins. I felt like I had just swallowed a large amount of lead.

"Next," she called out and an overweight man pushed me aside. Oliver kept me from falling. It was awkward, waiting on the side for our order to be brought, our eyes darting from place to place, expecting Aurors and the Office of Muggle Protection Officers to spring upon us at any time. After the war, the Ministry of Magic had expanded the Magical Law Enforcement Department to create a new section dedicated to investigation possible hate crimes towards muggles. They had rounded up several purebloods who still hadn't gotten the memo about bigotry no longer being welcomed, and had crashed on several witches and wizards all over the counter who did counterfeit dealings with muggles, always to the latter's disadvantage.

But our meal arrived, wrapped in a brown bag. I grabbed and held it against my chest, watching Oliver reinforce his grip on Ryan's hand. We had pre-arranged not to eat at the same place for fear of raising suspicions, so we walked out of the store with our food in hand as fast as we could. We didn't stop until we were a good ten blocks away, and had found a park with a few benches. It was deserted.

Oliver cleaned a bench of snow and placed a heating spell in the area. I dumped the bag and we all dug in to see what we were going to be calling lunch. Ryan had fished his toy, a car, from his own personal box and was playing with it instead of eating his food.

I unwrapped my hamburger and poked the bread. It was squishy. "Doesn't look too edible, does it?" Oliver was inspecting his food with all the curiosity of a child. "You try it first."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be a gentleman if I did, would I?"

"And here I thought you were the courageous one," I rolled my eyes and waited for him to take a bite of his meal. His face scrunched up in confusion. "Well?"

"Won't lie. It's edible, but pretty disgusting," I looked back down to my food and resigned myself. Willow was going to have to pay for this, I thought as I brought the thing closer to my mouth. It even smelled greasy, but my stomach rumbled and I took a long bite. I had never been a big hamburger fan, but this thing was fairly repulsing. I took a long sip from the drink and almost gagged. The thing was pure sugar.

Ryan, on the other hand, seemed to relish in his food. He ate all of it before Oliver and I were halfway down, swallowing each bite with the syrupy drink. He went off to the swings, leaving tiny footprints on the snow. I had managed three quarters of the food before I wrapped it up again and threw it in the garbage bag, feeling a bit nauseous.

Oliver was pushing Ryan in the swings, his laughter breaking the dull sounds of the city. I watched from my place beside the garbage bag as he swung ever higher in the air. There was a tugging inside my that I couldn't place. "How sweet," I turned around. A pair of elderly ladies was walking by, hand in hand. They were dressed for the weather in large, dark wool coats and heavy boots, and were staring at Oliver and Ryan like they were the cutest thing since puppies.

I hurried away from them and finished cleaning the table. They took a seat in a nearby bench, pausing to push the snow away from it. I bit my lip and fished my wand from my handbag to cast a heating charm their way. It was a cold afternoon, and they looked as fragile as a butterfly's wings.

Feeling distinctly awkward, I walked over towards the swings and sat on the one next to Ryan's. "Higher, higher!"

I rolled my eyes, holding onto the icy metal chains and began to swung forwards and backwards. My boots were caked with snow, but by the swings it wasn't as tightly packed. "Need help?" Oliver's voice startled me. Before waiting for an answer, he placed his hands on my back and pulled me backwards, letting go. I closed my eyes, feeling the freezing wind cut through my face.

"Oliver!" I screeched, my lunch lumping upwards. I felt the bitter taste of food again, but it went right back down as the swing turned backwards. Oliver laughed and pushed me harder. I wanted to yell at him to stop, to call him an idiotic troll, but when I opened my mouth only laughter came out.

"Race you!" Ryan screamed. And Oliver pushed my swing harder and higher. I extended my legs, snow flew to my head, but I brushed it away. Ryan was lighter and was going high enough I was half-scared he would do a full circle. "I win!"

"Yes, you win," I managed in between chuckles. Oliver was trying to slow me down, holding onto the chains when possible. Ryan was still going strong, and I knew what he was planning on doing before he did it.

"Ryan!"

Of course, he didn't listen. His body sprung from the swings, doing a half-arch in the sky before landing cat-like on a large pile of snow. My heart had travelled all the way up to my throat, where it had nestled into a quiet-scream. I heard Oliver tell the kid off, before he managed to stop me completely. The only thing I could hear was the beating of my heart and Ryan's laugh. Then snow hit me square in the face.

I heard Oliver laugh. The snow had trickled down to the inside of my coat. I jumped to my feet, opening my coat up and trying to get it out, almost tumbling over. Strong hand gripped me by the arms, steading me. I looked up. The sun was shining from behind Oliver, darkening his features; but I could still make up his beautiful smile. "Easy there," I glowered at him when my eye caught some movement ahead.

"Watch out!" I ducked, burrowing my frame against his chest; his arms wrapped themselves around me.

"SNOWBALL WAR!"

I looked up. There was snow on top of Oliver's head and shoulders, but his smile hadn't been wiped away. If anything, it looked evil. "How about boys against girls?"

I gulped. "I don't like that idea."

"YEAH!" Ryan run towards us, dropping snow as he run.

"Please don't."  
"Sorry Sarah," I screamed. Oliver twisted me to the side. I tried to battle him, but he had my arms locked and seemed immune to my kicking. Ryan was throwing snow at my face, and I couldn't see. My head felt cold and wet. My eyes were shut tight against the onslaught. Then it got worse.

I felt, rather than saw, as Oliver pushed his chest against my shoulder; with one foot, he bend my knee, destabilizing me. I lost my balance and fell against the snow, propping myself up with just one knee. I shook my head and opened my eyes. Ryan was on Oliver's back, almost choking him, but he didn't seem to notice. There was that maniac glint in his eyes again. It transported me back to the summer before our seventh year, when we had been engaged in a deadly sand-war.

He pushed me side down against the snow; my neck was hurting from trying to keep my head from being submerged in snow. His body was heavy against mine and the only source of warmth available to me. My coat was drenched and there was snow on my boots. I should have been furious. I think I was swearing rather colourfully, actually, but I was also having the most fun in ages.

"Ryan, get snow inside his jacket and I'll buy a large box of chocolate frogs," I watched the kids' eyes bulge open before he scurried over to get more ammunition. Oliver was staring straight at me.

"That's not fair."

I grinned. "Slytherin," and enjoyed the sight of Oliver's grimace as Ryan dumped a ton of snow inside his coat. To his credit, Oliver didn't let go of me; he still had me pinned beneath him, even as he squirmed trying to get the snow off of him without success. I laughed and wriggled a hand away from his grip to cake his face in more snow. He released me, placing his hands against the sides of my head and shaking his like a wet dog. Some of that snow fell on my face and I wiped it off. Ryan continued throwing snowballs at us.

"Truce?" Oliver said, his voice sounding bit hoarse.

"Ryan, sunshine, that's good, you won," I shouted from the side. Oliver was getting up, first on his knees and then on his feet. He extended a hand and helped me up.

Ryan was still holding more snow in his arms, like a baby. His cheeks and nose were rosy and his clothes were soaked. "What did I win?"

"A large box of chocolate frogs and tickets to Puddlemere's next game, what'd say?" Oliver was scratching the back of his neck where I saw a large amount of white stuff. I looked down to my side; it too was drenched. I began cleaning it. Ryan threw his last ammunition to the sky, so it looked like it was snowing.

"I need to get my handbag, I left it on the bench," I walked past Oliver, my fingers stroking his shoulder. The two elderly women were still sitting where I had left them. I wondered if I should remove the heating charm or leave it there until it wore off.

One of them spoke. "You don't see men like that often enough. You are a lucky girl."

I blinked. "Huh?"

The other one coughed. "So attentive and good with children." I looked over my shoulder, Oliver had Ryan perched on his shoulder again and they were laughing. It was rather impressive that he could be on such good terms with the offspring of his life-long rival.

"And handsome. You _are_ very lucky to have a husband like that."

My frozen cheeks seemed to heat up. "They're not, I mean," I wanted to tell them that Oliver wasn't my husband, that Ryan wasn't my kid, and that they weren't my family but my tongue got tied. The women smiled at me knowingly.

"Sarah, let's go, we're freezing!" Oliver shouted.

The old women sighed. "You make a lovely couple, and it is clear you are quite in love with each other. Don't lose that dear."

We found a secluded space to apparate; neither one of us three was inclined to walk back home and frankly, I wasn't even certain I knew the way. I fumbled with the key, almost dropping it; I could feel Oliver's warm breath on the back of the neck. Ryan was soaked, sniffing and insisting on a warm bath. It was still only five. The second the door swung open, Ryan scurried around me and dashed towards the loo.

Oliver placed a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. "Are we going inside?"

I walked in without saying a word. I could hear Ryan squealing in the loo alongside the sound of the open faucet. "Can he take a bath on his own?" I wondered aloud. Oliver brushed past me; he had already removed his coat and was hanging it. I watched the droplets fall from the edges on the floor and decided I really didn't care.

"I reckon one of us should watch over him," Oliver said, turning around. His hair was flat against his forehead, and his cheeks were still pink with cold. My breath hitched and caught, and I sneezed. "We need to get you out of these cold clothes too," he twirled his finger, indicating that I turn around. I worked my way through the various buttons of my jackets, feeling it come lose at the shoulders. Oliver's hand brushed against my forearm as he began removing the sleeve from it. He peeled it slowly, his skin skimming over mine, drawing goose pumps through every inch of my arm, and making my insides squirm.

"You know," I said as he pirouetted me, removing my coat inch by inch. His face was close enough that I could see the individual droplets of melted snow falling from his fringe and onto his nose and cheeks. I felt breathless. "The two elderly women sitting by us thought we were a couple."

"Did they now," he reached behind me and pushed the coat off of my shoulders so it dangled from my left elbow. The motion brought him close enough our bodies almost touched.

"They said we made a lovely couple," I tried to chuckle, but couldn't. I wondered if my voice sounded as strained as I felt. The corner of Oliver's mouth twitched and he pulled on my sleeve. The coat fell down to my feet.

Oliver didn't move to pick it up, and neither did I. Somehow, he had backed me up almost against the corner. There was nowhere for me to go unless he let me. And I knew he didn't want me to go anywhere. His eyes were roaming my face, searching for something. My stomach tightened against my spine, squishing my lungs and making it hard to breathe. My lips opened when his hand brushed some hair away from my face. He was close enough I could feel the warmth from his body, still damp from the snow. His breath tickled my cheeks and my eyes fluttered close. His hot breath made shivers of pleasure run through my every fiber. "It's funny how people can get confused."

My eyes opened. Oliver was close enough I could see the specks of honey in his brown eyes. His lips were a deep carmine and dry from the cold. I watched, entranced, as his tongue licked them open. The lack of oxygen was making me dizzy. "People can easily get the wrong impression."

His thumb was making circles across my temple. I reached one hand around his low back and pulled him forward, his hips crashing against my body. A low groan escaped from his throat. "After all, we're just friends."

His other hand cupped the back of my head. He laid his forehead against mine. "Yes, just friends," I exhaled and tiled my head upwards, my eyes closed. His lips brushed against mine and I inhaled sharply, digging my nails on the side of his body. The teasing pressure of his lips on mine was making me dizzy.

There was a noise not unlike a large pile of saucers and metal bowls tumbling over. Then, a scared scream.

"Aunt Lisa!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 – Jumbled

"Ryan," we both jumped at the same time. I hit my shoulder against the wall. Oliver spared me one glance before darting towards the loo. I shook my head and followed him. Ryan was sitting on the floor, crying. Cosmetics, brushes and broken perfume bottles were strewed around him. Oliver went on his knees and cuddled him up against his chest. I followed his example and stroked his hair as he cried.

"Are you hurt?" I asked softly, looking around me for any signs of blood. He shook his head and dabbed at his eyes. They were red. "Do you feel strong enough to take a bathe then? Oliver will fetch you Corey's rubber duck."

Ryan blinked and pushed Oliver away. "What's a rubber duck?"

"It's this little ducky that can keep you company while you take a bath," I leaned in so my nose almost touched his. With one finger, I tickled his belly and he giggled. Grinning, I leaned back up and saw that Oliver too was smiling. My cheeks went from zero to four-hundred degrees. "Um, so bath time?"

Oliver left and brought back Corey's rubber duck collection. He had about three ducklings and one mamma duck. He had explained to me that as a child he used to love playing with them and couldn't be parted from them, even if he didn't take bubble baths anymore. Once the water had reached the proper temperature, I dumped some Bubble Flo on it and the ducklings. Ryan jumped into the tub, spreading rainbow colored bubbles the size of bludgers around the room. I watched him as he entertained himself with them and began cleaning the mess. How he had managed to wreck every single one of my perfume bottles was beyond me.

The temperature in the room was increasing. I peeled my jumper off to keep myself from sweating, staying in only a white shirt. Ryan was having so much fun I had to interrupt my cleaning and wrestle him to get some shampoo on his hair.

I had just finished vanishingall the broken pieces of glass I could find when someone knocked on the door. "Everything alright?" I asked Oliver who was standing by the hallway. He had changed clothes and taken a quick shower by the looks of him. He was scratching the back of his head and avoiding my eyes.

"I made some hot chocolate and sandwiches for when your two are done," his eyes travelled down from my face and a smirk appeared on his mouth. "And by the way, your shirt is transparent," he said before walking out.

Embarrassed, I looked down. Indeed, in my attempts at getting Ryan's locks cleaned up, I had splashed enough water to render the white fabric transparent. The fact that I was wearing a lace magenta bra that popped like a bunny amongst death eaters wasn't much help. I sighed, torn between feelings I'd rather not explore and some sense of content knowing that Oliver's mood was back up.

I dwelled in that line of thought while I urged Ryan to hurry up. Something had changed in the way Oliver acted. When I moved in in the late summer, he had been morose and quiet. He was bickering with me again and was making use of his old charming brand of sarcasm. He was also leaving the house for things other than training, matches and publicity events.

He was dating someone.

My boss.

A gloom settled on me after that crashing realisation. Could seeing Kathryn had made all the difference, turned him from a sullen state back to the Oliver Wood I had grown up with? I helped Ryan dry himself up and get back into his magically-dried clothes. He rushed out of the loo and towards the kitchen when I told him Oliver had made hot chocolate. I stayed back cleaning, attacking each remaining bubble with a vengeance, feeling more desperate with every burst of soap.

When I left the loo, Oliver and Ryan were eating their sandwiches. The telly was on again. I stood by in the hallway, just watching them. Oliver was laughing and pointing at the silly muggle cartoon; there was mayonnaise on his jaw. His shoulders were down and relaxed, not tensed as if he were to be attacked at any moment. The lines that formed around his eyes when he smiled were back, as were the dimples on his cheeks.

He noticed me staring and looked up. His chocolate brown eyes rooted me to the spot, momentarily robbing me of breath. Ryan said something to him, but he didn't reply. My heartbeat accelerated to the point I was certain he'd be able to hear it. I tore my gaze from his eyes, feeling prickles running up and down my spine, and walked towards to my room. I could feel the burn of Oliver's eyes on my back before I snuck inside.

I rested against the door, listening to nothing but my sprinting heart. My legs felt wobbly and there was a large congregation of ants running from my throat to my toes. What is with me? I banged my head silently against the wall, but there was no immediate sensation change, expect an added dizziness. I walked towards my bed and simply stood there, looking at it, my hands at the edge of my shirt as if I were to take it off and throw it against a wall.

Oliver and I were _friends_. Friends don't make each other feel like they have a sugar rush. Or like the only thing keeping their insides from jumping everywhere at once was their skin. Friends didn't almost kiss at the entrance of the hall. When friend's hands brushed against the other, it didn't send shivers to every part of their bodies. Friends didn't feel jealousy when their friends dated other people. Friends felt happy, joyous not murderous.

Maybe Oliver and I aren't friends.

There was a faint noise of something knowing on wood. Maybe Ryan spilled his drink over. I felt dizzy and disoriented; my eyesight blurred. There was another faint sound somewhere in the distance, as if it were happening in a different lifetime.

I closed my eyes.

My breathing had become shallow. Friends didn't imagine friends' hand brushing against the back of their neck. A single finger trailing down my spine; warmth breath giving me shivers; a bottomless pit inside the stomach where thousands of butterfly wings were fluttering. A hand grasping my hip, fingers drawing circles upwards as it slowly removes my shirt. Goosebumps on my skin as cold air and warm fingers battle across my belly.

Another hand nestling in my hair, pulling my head back. Butterfly kisses on my neck. As small moan escaping my lips. Giggling in my ear.

And trailing upwards, playing with the edge of the bra. Shirt comes off. Heartbeats increase, threaten to burst out of the ribcage. Hand rests on breast, massaging it.

Another moan.

"If I had known you wanted me like this, I would've told St. Mungo's off," my eyes sprung open. My body went rigid; my heartbeat didn't slow. Breathing hard with an open mouth, I turned my head to look over my shoulder.

Hazel eyes.

Short dark hair; hand intertwined in my hair; the other one slowly pulling my bra off to expose a nipple.

I jumped away from his touch, my head screaming Ethan Ethan Ethan. He stared at me with a confused look and a small lopsided grin. "Did I scare you?"

"I no – yes- I um, sorry, I'm distracted."

He laughed and cut off the space between us, placing a soft kiss on my blushed cheek. "I'm told I have that effect on woman."

I tried to laugh, but it sounded fake and raw. Ethan didn't seem to notice. His lips were attached to my throat, leaving long trailing kisses along the sides. His hand had gripped my hips, rocking them forward. I looked down at the back of his head, feeling a wave of nausea. "Ethan."

He took that for encouragement and unclipped my bra. I gasped when his mouth began moving downwards, frozen. My limbs didn't know how to respond to the erratic commands of my mind. "Ethan – stop." Each part of me he touched became immobile, numb. Some Slytherin self-preservation kicked in, and I tried to keep him away. "Ryan is outside and-"

There was a knock on my door. I jumped, an outbreak of self-hatred and shame washing over me. Ethan had straightened; he looked like Christmas had come soon. "What is it?" I yelled, putting my hands on his shoulder and walking away, trying to clasp my bra back on.

The door opened then closed again. I bit my lip. "Willow's here," Oliver's voice sounded constricted, and I knew that he had glimpsed me half undressed.

"Tell her I'll be right out," there was no answer.

"You're right; maybe we should continue this later, hm?" Ethan said, placing a kiss on my shoulder that made me shiver and not in a good way. "I'll let you get dressed," he walked out of my room with a renewed vigor in his step.

I fell down on my bed, shaking. I wanted to scream and yell and maybe throw something against the wall. But I couldn't when I had to go out and face Willow, Flint, Ethan and Oliver. I hunched over, forcing my mouth shut. Blood swamped to my head. I had to face Ethan after I had let him make me feel powerless – and I had to face Oliver, with whatever that entailed.

How could I be so stupid?

There was a soft knock on my door. I didn't dare answer for fear a scream would come out. It opened. "Merlin, Lisa, what happened?" Willow closed the door shut behind her and walked over towards me, kneeling before me. She clasped my hands and peeled my fingers out of the tight fist they had gotten into. I looked up and a small sob escaped my lips. "Did he do something? Should I murder him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think it's going to work out between us."

She stood up and sat down beside me, caressing the top of my head. "He does seem like a git if you ask me. Want me to dump him for you?"

I chuckled. "No, but thanks for the offer."

"What did he do?"

I racked my brain. Yes, Ethan had taken a liberty without announcing himself – or maybe he did and I was too caught up thinking it was Oliver's hands rummaging through my body, not his. Or maybe I was just startled. It had been enjoyable-for a while. Maybe I just wasn't ready to take things that far. "I guess I just need time."

Willow stared at me in a way that I supposed most concerned mothers would, but she didn't say anything. Like most good mothers, she'd let me figure things out by myself. "Marcus and I brought some food over, get dressed and come out." I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself. Willow threw me one last look before exiting.

I searched my wardrobe for the least suggestive outfit I could manage. I settled for an old pair of dark trousers and Adrian's even older Slytherin Quidditch jumper. His name sewn on the back was fraying and it hung loose and limp around my body. I took a deep breath before exiting.

Willow, Flint, and Ryan were sitting around the sofa, chatting. Flint kept sending snarky comments towards Oliver, but he didn't seem to be responding. He was lounging on the lone armchair, staring at the wall. Ethan was waiting by my door. He blinked at my outfit.

"I think I'm getting a cold," I lied and snuggled closer into Adrian's clothes, faking a cough. I walked past him to sit next to Flint. Ethan perched himself on the sofa's arm.

It was by far, the most awkward half hour of my life. Oliver left after the first five minutes, saying something about sleep. I avoided looking at him, least my urge to fling myself at him resurface. Willow was trying to keep appearances up, but even Flint seemed to catch up that something wasn't right. They left, both throwing me uneasy glances. Willow whispered in my ear to owl her if anything happened.

"So did you enjoy your day as a foster mother?" Ethan asked, slipping to a space next to me on the sofa. He alone seemed to think everything was going perfect. I tried not to remember what happened in my room.

"It was very tiring," I faked a yawn, covering my mouth with my hand before dabbing at my eyes. Maybe if I pretended I was exhausted he would leave and then-

I shook my head. Thoughts involving Oliver and his bedroom were too tricky to go into.

Ethan chuckled. "I can see, since you haven't bothered to shower or dress decently."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" I crossed my hands across my chest.

Ethan was playing with a dirty strand of my hair, twirling it in his finger. "You are wearing Pucey's jumper. I have to say, I'm surprised you have any of his clothing."

"He gave it to me," I said feeling defensive. Was he going to accuse me of stealing Adrian's old things? I wanted to let him know that I also had one of his Puddlemere shirts from he was still just a reserve but he interrupted me.

"He gave it to you?" he had stopped playing with my hair. His tone sounded venomous. I nodded. "And you accepted it?"

"Clearly."

"Elizabeth, I'm going to ask you this once and I want an honest answer," he straightened up and faced me. "Is there anything I should be concerned about in regards to Adrian Pucey?"

It took me a couple of blinks to understand what he was saying. Adrian and I? I wanted to laugh and die laughing. He had it all wrong, didn't he? "Well?"

"You really are a jealous git."

I watched as his face heated up. "Is that a yes?"

"No."

"Then?"

"Adrian and I have never as much as snogged," I said and stood up. I didn't have to fake a yawn this time. "I need some sleep." Ethan's eyes perked up. "Alone. Ryan's tired me up – kid has too much energy for his own good." Ethan stood up and cupped my cheek. He tried placing a kiss on my lips, but I moved my head away. "I think I may be getting a cold too."

"I'm a healer, I can manage," he tried to kiss me again but I pushed him away. His eyes flashed with anger for a moment, before they abated. "Alright then. I'll see you on Friday?"

"What's happening on Friday?"

Ethan sighed and run a hand through his hair. "You agreed to go on a double date with your boss, remember? You were really upset about it, but you said you couldn't get out of it so-"

Damn. I had forgotten that after Kathryn had cornered me on Thursday, asking me if Oliver ever spoke about her (for she had figured out we lived in the same apartment) I had agreed to go out together so I could observe Oliver and tell her whether he knew they were soul mates.

"Of course, I'll see you on Friday."

When Friday arrived, I wanted to Avada Kedavra myself.

"Why are you even asking me?" Adrian was laying on my bed, toying with my alarm clock and looking as bored as I was angry. I shoved the two dresses, both black, in his face. He took them from me and laid them aside. "I thought you said you were doing to dump the healer. Why do you care?"

I threw him an angry glare and went back to my closet. Katrhyn had left me leave early, saying that I needed the time to prepare for tonight. Apparently, black under eye bags weren't acceptable attire at Witch Weekly. I groaned in frustration. The floor was littered with dresses, blouses and trousers and I had yet to find something suitable.

What kind of outfit states 'I'd rather be dissected than be here'?

"Let me see if I get this straight," Adrian had gotten up and was beginning to sort through the pile of clothes on the floor. "Bloke tries to get to second base _after_ like three months of dating, and you freak out?"

"Has that ever happened to you?"  
He seemed to consider the thought. "No, but I get your point. I would freak out too if a bloke tried to get to second base – first base actually." I threw him a trouser. "Alright, alright. I suppose yes, I've snogged plenty of birds I wish I hadn't."

"But I felt paralyzed, and like there were cockroaches roaming through my body," I shuddered.

Adrian crooked an eyebrow. "And the fact that you almost snogged Wood had nothing to do with the sudden distaste for you boyfriend?"

"I shouldn't have told you that."

"What are good friends for?" he plopped on the floor and sat cross-legged. I followed his hint and abandoned my search for tonight's outfit.

"D' you think Kathryn will see right through me if I tell her I got mauled by goblins on my way to Gringotts?"

He snorted. "Why, you don't want to hurt her feelings?"

"Don't be thick. I don't give a donkey's tail about her feelings. This is about keeping my job!" it was also the reason why I hadn't finished things with Ethan yet. Or so I told myself. But if I showed up to a double date boyfriend-less…. Well, it might defeat the purpose.

"And also investigating whether Oliver may be serious about her?" I threw him another pair of trousers and sat back so I could sulk. It was going to be hard enough to pretend everything between Ethan and I was going perfectly when I had ruthlessly avoided him all week and was planning the best way to end things. Let alone have to pretend like I wasn't bothered that my go-getter shinning blond boss was caressing Oliver's thigh beneath the table. "I'll take that as a yes."

"I hate you."

"No you don't. You'd be even more clouded if it wasn't for me," Adrian stood up and offered me his hand. I gave it a disdainful look before accepting it. Once I was vertical, Adrian held to my upper arms. "Whatever happens, just remember that Kathryn's a cow, Ethan is just another fly you need to squat, and Oliver is madly in love with you, he's just too dense to see it."

I smiled. "And most importantly," he pushed some hair behind my ear. "You are a ruddy Slytherin and in the end, that's all that counts."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - Tricky

The definition of awkward should be changed to this: sitting in a posh restaurant with a boyfriend you are planning on dumping insisting on putting his arms over your shoulders and with your ex-boyfriend for whom you suspect feelings have been rekindled who just happens to be dating your boss.

Why did I ever think this was going to be a good idea?

The wine was so expensive I couldn't even get properly drunk to make the evening go by faster.

Ethan and Kathryn had hit it off. It was actually kind of embarrassing to see my current boyfriend do engrossed in conversation with a gorgeous blond who never skimmed on the cleavage. They were talking about anything – and I mean, anything. From healer trainer, to the new shoe collection Ulysses Hooper was creating for the spring to the upcoming EuroCup Quidditch championship in August. It was quite disenchanting and also amusing. Oliver and I were having a hard time concealing our laughter whenever Kathryn pretended to understand Quidditch talk (during which, of course, Oliver couldn't help but contribute) or Ethan appeared genuinely interested in shoes and sandals.

I don't think I said more than three words throughout the evening. I was having too much fan twirling my pasta around my plate, and measuring how much wine I had left over in my glass (a pitiful amount). Oh, and sharing concealed smiles with Oliver whenever our respective partners began a particularly funny topic of conversation.

"I forgot to tell you, Eliza," Kathryn's voice caught me unawares toying with a cut mushroom .I put my fork down and looked up at her, hoping to conceal the fact that I wasn't paying attention. "I received a memo from Miranda today, regarding the article you wrote for the new column."

I tried hard not to choke on my own saliva. We had been sitting here discussing how to tell the difference between female and male goblins for two hours and she remembers this just now? "Wha-what did it say?"

Kathryn smiled and took a deliberate long sip of her wine. My nails were digging into the napkin strewn on my lap. Hurry up woman! "She said there were more entries than they had expected," that's not good. "And that the quality was simply astounding."

"Kathryn-"

"You made the cut for the next round," I stopped mid-sentence to stare at her. I made the cut?

"That's fantastic, Sarah, congratulations."

"What are we talking about?" I jumped, remembering that Ethan was sitting beside me. I seemed to forget about that quite often this evening. I turned around to answer, but Kathryn beat me to it.

"You didn't tell him Eliza? Tsk tsk," she giggled. "Witch Weekly is creating a whole new department to answer the need of our readers for more thoughtful material, no that I don't think fashion isn't thoughtful, but readers want more input on current events and thoughts. Our chief editor, Miranda Winterstorm, has already appointed the head of the new department and they are looking for full time copy editors, fact checkers, even writers. Eliza here sent them a heartwarming piece and has been selected."

"How many?" I asked at the same time as Ethan spoke.

"No, she didn't tell me this," I gave him an off glance before focusing back on Kathryn. She was smiling, clearly enjoying being both the bearer of good news and seeing the tension between Ethan and me. She picked up her wine glass and placed her other hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"I can't tell you that, Eliza, it would break confidentiality," she squeezed Oliver's shoulder. He was looking out of the window, not paying attention. "But I am surprised you haven't told Ethan. After all, being an editor is your dream, is it not?"

"I didn't know that either," well hell. In close to three months did he learn nothing? I stopped my eyes from rolling mid-roll, and instead mimicked Kathryn's posture by squeezing his shoulder with fake affection before I changed the subject to something else, mainly asking Oliver about Puddlemere's next match against the Wimbourne Wasps.

He looked at me oddly; like me, he was only paying attention to half of the conversation. I raised my eyebrows at him and he opened his mouth into a round 'o' before taking up the offered topic. Soon Kathryn jumped in, discussing the clashing colour of the Wasps' robes and engaged Ethan in a chat about the amount of medical injuries Quidditch players normally dealt with.

That took care of the rest of the night.

"I had a lovely evening," Kathryn said more to Ethan than to me, even though she was hugging me. I patted her back, thanking my lucky stars it was ten o'clock and we were _done_. Oliver too didn't seem too sad about cutting things short; he was waiting for his date to finish schmoozing mine with his hands inside his trousers' pockets. It had been Oliver's remainder that he had training early in the morning that had cut the night short. Otherwise I think Kathryn and Ethan could have gone on talking until dawn.

"Ready to go?" Ethan asked, grabbing a hold of my hand. I tried to smile and nodded. He brought me close to him, and I felt my breathing being cut short but not for any good reason. I looked up at him seconds before we disapparated and wondered at what point I had ceased to be attracted to him. There really wasn't any major flat in him – good complexion, warm hazel eyes, some temper and jealousy issues, but no bloke is perfect.

We arrived to my flat. Ethan let go of me, but remained close enough that I could smell his cologne. It wasn't the usually wooden scent; this one seemed more floral and less appealing. "Do you want to come in?" I asked after I realized he wasn't going to simply say goodbye and walk down the stairs.

Besides, he wasn't going to chuck himself either.

His response was a wiggle of his eyebrows that made my stomach churn. I opened the door, hoping that Adrian and Corey and maybe Gwen would be home – but the living room was deserted. I called out to them, and no one answer. "Treacherous little buggers."

"Did you say something?" I jumped at Ethan's words, not realising I had been speaking out loud.

"Nothing, nothing," I fumbled with the buttons in my coat. Ethan clasped my hands in him and unbuttoned them for me. My cheeks were flushing. I shrugged the coat out and was going to hang it when Ethan took it from me. Defeated, I walked towards the kitchen to steal some of Adrian's liquor. That's what I needed: liquid courage.

Ethan was already sitting on the large sofa when I came back with a bottle of Elf Wine and two glasses. He took them form me and poured them, ignoring my angry glare. He even offered me a glass. I yanked it from him and gulped the contents down. He arched his eyebrows. "Thirsty?"

"Parched."

He took a smaller sip of his own wine and didn't say anything. Neither did I, so we just sat at opposing ends of the sofa facing each other. The only sound that could be heard was the clink-clink of my nails against the glass.

"Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?" clink-clink-clink.

He waved his hand. "That noise with your nails."

"Oh. I didn't know it bothered you," clink-clink.

"Did you regress back to age five? Stop that," he snatched the glass from me, spilling wine over my shirt. "Shit."

I glared at him and palced the glass on the coffee table where it left a mark. "Who's regressing now?" I stood up and went searching for my handbag, where I had stuffed my wand.

"If you had stopped when I told you to , this wouldn't have happened."

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he couldn't see me. "I don't have to do anything you tell me," I muttered while pointing my wand at my shirt. "Evanesco," most of the stains disappeared but I couldn't quite be bothered with what was left. I'll give the shirt to Corey – he was rather adept at this kind of cleaning spells. Not when it came to household surfaces though, he sucked at those.

"Do you want to talk like an adult, or should we leave it for another day?"

I turned around as slow as I could, my arms crossed tightly against my chest. I leaned against the wall. "What do you want to talk about?"

Ethan run a hand through his mop of hair. "Whatever's got your knickers in a twist. You've been avoiding me like I have a bad case of Spattergroit." He had me there. So I just shrugged and kept my lips sealed. "Or the fact that you've been hiding things from me."

I snorted. "Hiding what?"

"Your bid to become an editor at Witch Weekly."

"I wasn't aware you needed to know all the minutiae of my attempts at furthering my career," I said rolling my eyes.

"It would be good to share."

"Escaped my mind."

"That seems to happen quite often. Kathryn doesn't know that you live under the same roof as her boyfriend, does she?"

"Need to know basis."

"That's lying, Elizabeth."

I stared at him, deadpanned. "Are you here to give a talk about your sense of morality?"

"I'm here to find out what's gotten inside that barmy head of yours-"

"So I am barmy now?" I unpeeled myself from the wall and began walking towards him, doing circles just behind the sofa. "I don't tell you what my career aspirations are or to my obsessed boss that her boyfriend lives with me and suddenly I am barmy?"

"Elizabeth-"

"Don't Elizabeth me. You are not my father."

"I am your boyfriend," he had stood up and was towering over me. There were lines in his forehead where it was knitted. I stopped dead on my tracks, holding my ground with only the sofa for shield. "How are you planning on managing a job as an editor when-" he racked another hand through his hair, pulling on it. "If you want to be a respectable writer, why are you even bothering with Witch Weekly? No offense, but everyone know it is crap."

I wanted to slap him. "Because it's been my dream since I was a ruddy child."

"Maybe you need grownup dreams if you want to be taken seriously," he spat back. "And once we get married? Have kids? How are you going to handle a bloody editor job? That takes _time_ and so does raising children and-"

Woah. "Who says we are getting married and having children?"

Ethan looked genuinely confused. He lowered his hands from where they were plucking his hair. "I'm twenty-eight Elizabeth, at my age I don't just date. I want to know things will move forward."

"By telling me what I can and cannot do with my life?" I snorted. "What a wonderful husband you'll make."

"You don't get it," he walked around the sofa towards me. I backed up, renewing the distance between us. "Once you get a real job, you'll have no time for family or anything else for that matter. Playing around, being Kathryn's assistant and pretending to be a writer is all fine, but at the end of the day you don't need to work because I'll take care of you."

"And then what? Throw it in my face every time I ask you for gold to buy anything?" my lips curled over my teeth. This was bloody unbelievable, it was.

"What kind of git do you take me for?"

"The one you are proving yourself to be!" I screamed, waving my arms widely in front of me. My face, my body, was heated up with rightful anger. "You accuse me of manipulating the truth, but you want t control my _life_."

"I want to make you happy, give you a good life-"

"Listen to yourself! We've been together for less than three months, Ethan-"

"If you are not ready to commit-"

"Of course I'm not bloody ready. I'm twenty-two," twenty-three in a week, "I am not thinking of marriage and children. And if I were, you wouldn't be the husband or the father."

Ethan was breathing just as hard as I was, but unlike me, he seemed to want to retrain his urge to yell and slap me senseless. The only thing keeping me from beating his head against a wall to draw some sense on it was the fact that I was too angered to move. I had not escaped an arranged marriage to end up a trophy wife. That was not what I wanted – and that was not what I would end up with.

My life won't turn out so damned ironic.

"Is this because of Adrian Pucey?"  
I choked on my saliva. "This is about _you_ , and your old-fashioned, chauvinistic -"

"Go ahead, call me a sexist pig-"

"Then stop acting like one!" my throat burned with the strength of my yell. My chest was heaving and it was getting difficult to get enough oxygen to continue with my rant. "You want me to be your little wife, but you don't get that it isn't me – that I want _more_ than that."

"What has gotten into you? I thought we were on the same page."  
"Ethan, we never spoke about this because _we've been together for three bloody months_. That's not enough to get to know another person and decide you want to be with them until death do you part," my breathing was still erratic, but my voice was even. Ethan didn't say anything, so I continued. "We want different things, and you want to get on with your life so just go and find a girl that will want to be pampered and taken care of because I am not her."

He blinked. "Are you breaking up with me?"

I tried hard not to roll my eyes. "Yes."

"You drunk too much, you'll change your mind in the morning."

The urge to slap me came over me again. "I am perfectly capable of deciding without your help, Ethan," to keep myself from hexing him I walked towards the door, unhooked his coat and opened the door to the hallway. "You can go now."

He didn't move. "You don't mean that."

"Don't test me, Sweeting," I wanted to throw his coat on the hallway's flood and jinx him out, but decided this break up needed an adult to supervise it. I motioned with my head that he should leave. Ethan stumbled, seeming confused, before he shook his head and marched forwards. He seized his coat from my hands with more force than necessary and stomped out.

"I hope you and Pucey are happy," I slammed the door close in his face and strode back towards the coffee table. I poured a hefty amount of wine in my glass and drank without stopping to breathe. I heard the door creak and realised with a jump that I hadn't locked it. I slammed the glass back down on the coffee table, chipping the bottom and yelled. "Get the hell out you creep-" when the door opened to a flabbergasted Corey and Adrian. "Oh, it's you lot."

"Always nice to see you, Lisa," Adrian said with a mocking grin. He ushered Corey inside and closed the door behind him. "Who were you being so nice to?"

I threw him a contemptuous look and flopped on the sofa, leaning my head against it. "Ethan."

"Ah, the beau," I heard them removing their coats and walking over. "What did he do now, pray tell?"

I closed my eyes. "He's a pig."

"Besides that."

Adrian sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Corey perched on the arm rest and offered me a refilled glass. "Well…." The story spewed from my like lava sauntering down a volcano's side. I told them about dinner, how he had spent most of the time talking to Kathryn. Then the fight the moment we arrived at the flat, him wanting me to be his pretty little wife, telling me my dreams were childish, that he could take care of me like I am nothing but a china doll. "And it bloody hurt, you know," I was onto my third glass of wine since they arrived. Corey had to charm the bottle for the wine not to run out. "Witch Weekly _can_ be more than just shoes and handbags, I know it. It _can_ be more literary or respectable and it will be and I will be part of it dammit!" I slammed the glass again, chipping it once more. Corey sighed, but didn't say anything.

"And then he thought we are together," I leaned against Adrian who caught my wrist and steadied me so I could lay my head on the crook of his shoulder. My eyes were closing. The win was flowing freely through my veins, reaching my brain and making me drowsy. "That's ridiculous."

"Indeed it is."

I reached a hand forward to play with his black hair. Adrian was smiling. "You are pissed drunk." I didn't deny it. "Come on, I'll take you to bed," he pushed me and stood up, offering me his hand. I took it and stumbled right on top of him, almost making us fall against the coffee table. Hands grabbed my shoulders and steadied me.

"Thanks Corey-"

"I'm not Corey, but you're welcome," I hiccupped. My vision was getting blurry, but I knew that Scottish accent and that outline of broad, comforting shoulders. Oliver. I wanted to tell him something, there was something that I knew was imperative he heard but I couldn't remember what it was. So I just smiled and allowed the two of them to help me walk towards my room.

"I'll take it from here Wood," Adrian said, putting a hand on my stomach to keep me from lurching forward. Oliver's hand on my shoulder faltered before he let go.

"Let us know if she needs anything," that was Corey. Right? It sounded like Corey, you know, like a chirping bird. The door opened in front of me, and Adrian steered me towards my bed. He pushed on my shoulders to make me sit down. Things were a bit blurry, and I don't remember charming my bedroom to have it spin in tiny circles.

"Put this on," Adrian threw a large shirt on me. I held it up, trying to see which way the front was, but managing to only get dizzy and fall backwards on my bed. I heard him sigh, and a moment later I felt my body being levitated. Two hands were helping me remove my stained shirt. I told him something about it, but he brushed it off, pulling a new garment over my head. "You'll sleep with your bra on because I am not touching that."  
I giggled.

"Merlin, this is just like when you broke up with Higgs," he muttered, pushing me downwards on the bed. I hooked my arms around his neck and pulled him down. "Blimey, watch it woman, you almost kneed me."  
I giggled again. Adrian rolled off of me and pulled on the sheets before placing them over me. I cuddled against my pillow, burrowing my face in it. It was quiet now and when I closed my eyes the world stopped spinning.

If only I could remember what I wanted to tell Oliver…


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 - Satisfied

I thought breaking up with Terrence while still at Hogwarts was bad. I hadn't yet experienced breaking up with Ethan at Witch Weekly. For two weeks, most of the girls on the fashion team greeted me as if I had just come from burying my mother. Even Alice was being sympathetic in her own devious way, asking me if I was feeling good enough to handle the large amount of work in preparation with the next issue.

" _Of course_ I'm feeling good enough," I said through clenched teeth one morning. I snatched the large pile of parchments off of her hand and slammed them on my desk. A large quill flew and landed on the floor. I ignored it. "Why wouldn't I?"

Alice's mouth twitched to a sneer any Slytherin would've been proud of. "You know, your _broken heart_."

I returned sneer for sneer. "And are you sure you are coping with all the work you have?" I pointed a manicured figure towards her desk. There were three large piles of parchments she had yet to sort through, and two owls were awaiting her attention.

" _I_ didn't just have a horrible break up," she flicked her hair behind her.

"No, you'd have to find someone willing to date you first, wouldn't you?" Alice's sneer disappeared from her face faster than she could come up with another insult. I took the opportunity to show her my biggest smile. "If you excuse me, I need to ask Ceres some questions about these," I grabbed the pile she had given me and walked past her, out of the office. I didn't have to ask Ceres anything, so I just walked around the building keeping my head up and my pace steady. When I had calmed down I stopped by Ceres' office to ask her an inconsequential question before returning to the office.

Feeling much less murderous, I sat down and began to plunge through the paperwork. Kathryn had said that I had been one of those employees that would be contacted for an interview, but I had yet to receive any notification. Then again, I had barely heard anyone even talk about it, so I guessed Kathryn had broken the news to me before anyone else.

"This arrived for you," I took the letter from Alice's hand without looking at it. It was from Armand, which in itself was odd. I waited until she was back on her desk to tear it open.

" _Little sister,_

 _A new muggle café opened up close to my house. They make the best scones. I'll pick you up from your flat at eight tonight. You have to try the scones._

 _A."_

I groaned. I had agreed to meet Willow after work; she wanted to show me the place she had leased for her business. If I had to be home by eight to meet Armand, I would be cutting it close. But he wouldn't have owled just so I try some muggle scones. Without bothering with a reply, I hastened to finish my work for the day so maybe I could leave a few minutes early.

It didn't work. Kathryn killed twenty decent minutes going on and on about how sad it was that we couldn't double date. She had so liked Ethan.

By the time I left Witch Weekly, I was five minutes late. Instead of walking the couple of blocks to Diagon Alley I apparated straight into the Leaky Cauldron which was as busy as always. I hurried out into the street, almost running on the snow-covered pebbled narrow street. Willow's new shop was located where Rosa Lee Teabag had been. Like many other shops during the war, it had been ransacked and destroyed. Rosa Lee herself was said to have been murdered inside her shop for being muggle-born. The premise had remained unoccupied since, and rumours were abounding that it may be cursed by Rosa Lee's ghost.

Of course, that's exactly what attracted Willow to the place.

"You are late," she said. There was another witch, taller and skinner than Willow but with a redder shade of auburn standing beside her; Rowan, Willow's younger sister who had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Now that I saw her I did remember her at the wedding.

"Don't tell me you were waiting for me?" I tried to be cheeky, but there was a stitch on my side that kept me from speaking clearly. Willow rolled her eyes and opened the door. Rowan walked past me without as much as a smile. Some Hufflepuff, that one.

A rusty bell chimed overhead when I walked in. Willow and Rowan were busy lighting the hanging candelabra. Like many of the buildings in Diagon Alley, this one had kept its original Middle Age flavour, evident in the high bolted ceiling and exposed stone. A large window was covered with deep purple drapes, keeping most of the light out. The place had the distinct smell of claustrophobia: a mix of dust, earl gray and candlewax.

When they were done with the lighting, the place seemed cozier but still forgotten. There was a gigantic spider web just above my head, and several spiders crawling up the walls. I had been to Rosa Lee's once, and it had been decorated like a true medieval pub with long, wooden tables and chunky chairs. There had been suits of armors up against the walls and the odd medieval weapon hanging as decoration. This place only had the old architectural details that Death Eaters had been unable to blast off.

"It looks- nice?"

"Don't be daft, it looks hideous," Willow snapped. She was standing on a chair and trying to push a spider away from where it had lodged on a high corner. "We've managed to remove all of the furniture so far."  
"That explains the empty sensation."

She threw me a bored glance. "We'll be spending a fair amount of time cleaning it and making it suitable for human living and food preparation."

"Why don't you just hire a cleaning company?" I asked inching towards the purple drapes. It may have been a trick of the dim light, but I could have sworn it moved.

"Don't," it was Rowan who spoke. My hand froze two inches away from the dusty fabric. "There is a large nest of doxy's there." That explained the movement. "Here, take this." She threw me a large bottle which I just managed to catch before it hit the ground and shattered. I turned it around to read the label.

"Doxycide? What do you think I am, hired help?" Rowan ignored me and threw me a piece of cloth. I opened my mouth to protest, but Willow caught me off. She had already wrapped a piece of cloth around her face and was holding another black bottle. Behind her, Rowan was getting ready.

"You didn't think I brought you here just to show you the place, did you? That infestation is foul, we need manpower," I wanted to argue, protest, and plain old deny, but Willow outmaneuvered me. "It's not like you have much else to do, do you?"  
"I'm seeing Armand at eight."

"Oh, a date with your older brother, how thrilling. Now cover your face, I'd rather not have to use any antidote. Unless you've changed your mind and would love a trip to St. Mungo's?" I shot her a spiteful glare but covered my face and prepared for the onslaught. "Start spraying!" Willow shouted seconds before she wrung the curtain down. I had just enough time to spray a large adult doxy before it bit my elbow. I didn't have enough time to throw it inside the bucket Rowan had brought because another one was about to bite my other elbow.

I squirted black Doxycide it and watched with dry satisfaction as it became paralyze and fell with a heavy thumb on the wooden floor. The more doxies I sprayed, the better I felt. It was as if I was taking all the repressed anger at life in general on the biting pixies. I thought of Ethan's face, twisted with rage as he stormed out of my apartment; Kathryn's hand squeezing Oliver's unresponsive shoulder; Alice's sneer. I finished my bottle and grabbed another one, spraying doxies with renewed vigor until the curtains had stopped buzzing and moving. The floor around me was littered in paralyzed little bodies; I had been so engrossed in my attack, I hadn't bothered to clean up.

"It's quarter to eight," Willow said after removing the cloth from her face. Her cheeks were red with heat. "You go meet Armand. I can clean up."

I took the cloth from my face and put the second empty bottle on the floor. I too felt heated and sweaty – but great. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

I apparated home and dashed for a quick shower, ignoring Gwen who had been watching the telly with Adrian. The doorbell rung while I was washing my hair, and some shampoo got into my eye. I scrubbed it off and placed my head beneath the hot stream of water. My arms were tired and felt heavy, running my hands through my wet locks took a lot of satisfying energy. I was beginning to understand why Oliver always went barmy with the training whenever he was a sour mood: taking a shower right after felt just as good as punching someone in the face.

Armand was chatting idly with Gwen and Adrian (no Corey to be seen) when I emerged, still half dressed. "Give me ten minutes," I said before running inside my room to finish getting ready.

"That's a ruddy lie, Elizabeth," Armand called out. I snickered.

Fifteen minutes later, I had managed to put on clean clothes and dry my hair. Armand looked pointedly at his wrist watch. I shrugged. "It could've been a lot worse, you know?"

"You could've showered early, you know?" he countered, getting up from the sofa and walking towards the door.

I waved at the other two, grabbed my coat and followed him. "No I couldn't. I spent all afternoon spraying doxies."

Armand chuckled. "You need better hobbies, little sister." He held my arm and took me by side-along apparition. We had to walk a few blocks to the actual place, since it was located in muggle London. "Here it is!" I peered inside the windows; the place looked warm and cozy. Tall lamps provided an orange glow that illuminated the place. The windows were covered with transparent-looking white curtains. There was a drawing of a teapot painted on it.

"What's so special about this place?" I muttered as Armand hurried me inside. Another bell chimed over my ears. He waved at the girl on the counter, and I took a look. Short, brown haired, pretty, but not extraordinary. Even the food looked marginally plain. I began to question Armand's motives. We sat at a table for four on the farthest end of the place, which wasn't saying much as it was rather small. There was only an older man reading a newspaper.

"Weird, the pictures don't move."

Armand threw me an amused look. "I'll get you the best scone of your life, little sis," I waved him away, shrugged off my coat and placed it on the back of my chair. At least the smell of recently baked pastries was delicious. Perhaps the food would taste better than it looked. I sat down to wait. Armand was chatting the waitress up, as usual. When he came back, he was holding a tray with two teas, two scones with what looked like raisins, and two sandwiches. I went for the last ones first.

"Thanks," I muttered, cleaning a speck of mayonnaise from my chin. "I didn't realised I was famished."

"Taking care of a doxy infestation will do that to you. You know, you can always ask William to let you borrow Mimi. She is getting old though, I keep telling him she should retire but she breaks down to tears when I suggest it."

"I wonder why."

He chuckled before taking a troll-like bite from his food. A tomato escaped. I offered him a napkin. "Where's the infestation at anyway? As far as I am concerned, you have no curtains."

"Willow leased the premises where Rosa Lee Teabag used to be. She's planning on opening her own tea shop there with her sister, Rowan," Armand made a smart ass comment about children-naming priorities and asked me further details. I told him all about how Willow left Flint when he flat out refused her idea and how they had gotten over their difficulties. He laughed at the fact that I had to burn my sheets.

"I can see you've been busy. What about that healer boyfriend I heard Gwen talking about?"

"You've seen Gwen?" Lately she'd been so damn busy with work, reaching the half-point of her apprentice, that I hadn't had the opportunity to speak with her.

"A couple of weeks ago Elena got what April thought was dragon pox, so we went to St. Mungo's to get it checked it. It was an allergic reaction to peaches," he added when I opened my mouth to ask how she was doing. I sat back on my chair, pushed my now empty plate aside and began tearing up the scone, relishing every time a breaded crumb fell apart. Why was I always not informed of things? "Is this top secret or can a concerned older brother inquire?"  
I snorted. "I ended it a couple of weeks ago."

"Why, I heard he was a good catch."

"And a sexist pig."

"Ouch. Never nice."

Armand checked his wristwatch and looked over his shoulders towards the almost empty street. It was quarter to nine and bitter cold; I reckoned most people were at home. "Are you waiting for someone?" I put a piece of scone inside my mouth and almost gagged. This was the worst scone I had ever tasted, what the hell was Armand thinking?

"Matter of fact, yes," he replied without looking at me. His fingers were tapping against the table.

"Am I going to find out why you lied about the disastrous scones?"

A wolfish grin appeared on his mouth and he turned around to face me again. "Had you fooled, didn't I?" I deadpanned. "The thing is, I am seeing someone. Muggle. Living together, actually. Might be serious."

I snorted. Armand's ability to categorize relationships was astounding. "What's her name?"

"Sam."  
"As in Samantha?" I lifted my tea cup to my lips to get rid of the awful smell of half-cooked pastry.

He laughed. "No, as in Samuel."

I choked, spilling lukewarm tea over me. I stared at him, cup still up in the arm. "Does William know?"  
"Yes, they've met. Even April approves. She finds him rather charming. Elena loves him, or rather the muggle toys he brings her. He knows how to charm little ladies," he was staring out of the window again

I slammed my cup on the table; whatever tea was left spilled out. "Why am I always the last one to find things out?" is it because I'm the youngest? "Did you think think I wasn't going to like him because he's a muggle or because he's a bloke?"

Armand stood up, his chair scraping against the cheap linoleum floor. He leaned over, Because he's drop dead gorgeous and the last thing I want is my little sister getting a crush," the bell chimed again and I caught a blurred vision of someone entering the place. "Now play nice, he's here."

I rolled my eyes and cleaned my lap with a napkin while he went over to greet this Samuel. Armand stopped him by the door, saying something; probably giving me time to get over the initial shock and recompose myself. From afar, Samuel didn't look like anything special, not next to Armand at least. He was fair as Armand was dark, his hair was cut short, unlike Armand's shoulder-length locks. He was wearing a dark navy blue parka.

Still upset, I decided to act like a grown up for once and stood up, carefully placing the soaked napkin on top of my empty plate. I patted away the crumbs that were on my legs and walked over, placing one hand on Armand's shoulder and starting him. I extended my other hand, "You must be Sam. I'm Elizabeth, Armand's told me _so much_ about you," Samuel's brown eyes twinkled, a large grin appeared on his handsome features. Up close he was much better looking, with large brown eyes and high cheekbones.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, taking my hand and shaking it.

"Let's sit down, talk for a while, I want to hear more about you," I sidestepped Armand and hooked my arm through Samuel's, looking up at him adorably. Armand was torn between seething and laughing. I looked at him over my shoulder while I guided his beau towards our table and winked. He laughed.

It was close to eleven by the time I got home. Samuel had turned out to be a decent bloke and I had a good time playing with Armand's nerves. I think he almost popped a vein when I asked Sam what his intentions were with my dear older brother. It was fun to not be on the receiving ends of such conversations. Of course, Armand wouldn't be outdone.

"How's Oliver? Puddlemere is on the brink of entering the Euro Cup is it not? He must be brimming with excitement."

"Who is Oliver?" Sam inquired. Armand answered before I could.

"Elizabeth's ill-fated lover." That earned him a kick under the table.

"He's dating my ruddy boss, Armand."

"That must feel _awful_. Is that why you dropped what-was his name?"

That earned him another kick and a change of topic that began. "Did Armand ever tell you what happened when he was fifteen and we were vacationing in Russia?"

That shut him up.

I opened the door carefully, thinking my flatmates would be asleep. It was Thursday (almost Friday) and they had practice at five in the morning. The three of them were sitting on the sofas and for once, the telly was off. "Evening," I said, dropping my keys on the little table we had by the door for this explicit purpose. Corey had bought some sort of Tibetean bowl to drop them in. The first one to get up was Adrian.

"We have good news and bad news," he said walking towards me. I saw Oliver stand up behind him. I was immediately on edge and getting hot with my coat still on.

"Good news first."

"We received Hogwarts letters."

I arched an eyebrow. "What he means to say," Oliver said coming to stand behind Adrian. "Is that Hogwarts is inviting us over for a weekend to celebrate that's it's been five years since we've completed our education."

"You can bring a plus one," Corey chimed from the back.

Returning to Hogwarts for a weekend? That sounded like fun. Except that I didn't have a plus one or the job that would make most of my classmates drool with envy. I needed to find out what Williams was up to these days and maybe update some of my wardrobe… "What are the bad news?"

Adrian and Oliver exchanged a wry look before they spoke at the same time. "Oliver's received an invitation to play for the Scottish National Team."

"Your dad's had a stroke. He was transferred to St. Mungo's about half an hour ago."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 – Fake

I stared at Oliver with my mouth hanging open and my heart beating hard against my ribcage. I blinked; I could sense the information being processed by my brain. It was as if different neurons were playing a tug-o-war game. On the one hand, who cares? I haven't spoken to my father since I run away from the customs he wanted to uphold and I didn't (ok, I just didn't really like how they curtailed my choices). On the other hand, he could be dying.

I surprised myself by asking, "And they transferred him to St. Mungo's?"

Oliver looked at me like I had grown a pair of antlers. "It's the new policy," he shrugged. "The ministry is trying to show that they are made of better material than the Death Eaters I reckon."

I nodded, adding that new piece of information to the "I don't care" list. "This may sound barmy," Adrian said, taking a step forward. "But perhaps this is the time when we apparate at St. Mungo's? Just sayin', you don't have to."

Did I want to? I locked eyes with Adrian. Like me, he had also shunned the future his parents had set up for him, although the Pucey's had stayed out of the war and were still living freely. That didn't mean they had reached out to their youngest son and asked him to come home. Adrian hadn't had any contact with any of his family members since before we finished our education. "What would you do?"

He didn't seem surprised by the question. "Prove to them I am a better person."

I nodded. He was right. "St. Mungo's it is then." The four of us apparated right inside the welcome lobby. I got chills just looking at the dull white paint on the wall. How many more times was I going to have to come to this ruddy place? I didn't notice someone talking to me until they poked me. "What was that for?"

"Being in your own world. Are you coming or would you rather watch the wallpaper peel?" April's eyes were narrowed. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she was wearing pajamas beneath her robes, the remnants of a hastily washed overnight facial were still visible on her skin. I decided not to argue with her, and motioned for her to lead the way. William was already out of sight, and I figured it would take Armand only a couple more minutes to get here.

We made our way up to the fourth floor in silence. Ward forty-one was designated for muggle-like and biological related ailments. Wizarding blood protected the body from most common muggle illnesses (except the common flu, there's something evil about that one); but our bodies were still relatively susceptible to heart attacks, food poisoning, and other issues especially as we got older.

William was already speaking with one of the healer trainees stationed outside of room 4058. I creped behind him to listen in. "Mr. Montieth suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. Right now the healers are trying to fix the ruptured blood vessel and stop the internal bleeding. We won't have a proper prognosis until they are done examining him."

"How could this happen? Last time I wrote to him he seemed to be in good health," William wrote to him? Merlin, I suppose the ministry was taking this goody-goody act far if they were allowing Azkaban prisoners to have correspondence.

The healer in training gave him a condescending look. "Wizard brains are just like muggles, Mr. Montieth. A lifetime of bad choices, coupled with the stress of Azkaban, must have weakened his brain vessels. There isn't much more I can tell you right now, please take a seat and wait," she walked past us and down the corridor before my brother could get another word out. I understood the dismissal for what it really was: your father was a Death Eater, Mr. Montieth. I have family members of other patients who really deserve my attention.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a grim tight-lipped smile. We were Death Eater children, it was silly to expect compassion at a time like this. William squeezed my hand and took a seat next to his wife. "Where's Elena?" I asked.

"I left her with my parents," April said with a frown. "I'm not going to bring her to the ruddy hospital at this time of night just to-"

I lifted my hands in a surrender gesture. "April, it was just a question." Without another word, I sat down next to Adrian and Corey. Oliver was leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed. "Shouldn't you lot be getting some sleep?" I asked after five minutes of silence. The clock said it was midnight, at this rate they would only get five hours of sleep before their usual gruelling practices.

"We'll stay until there's news," Oliver said,

"Isn't that sweet and supportive?" I jerked my head towards the side and held in a groan. Armand was sauntering down the hall, Sam trailing a few steps behind him. He stopped right in front of Oliver and gripped his cheek. "I had my qualms about my little sis living with three blokes before marriage, but it's always good to know she's well taken care off."

Oliver swatted him away and Armand laughed before plopping down on a chair. April snapped. "Your father is fighting for his life; can't you be serious for once?"

"I am serious," he said playing with a strand of his shoulder-long hair. "I am being a caring older brother, how's that not serious?" April rolled her eyes and resumed fuzzing over William who looked like he was going to throw up. I watched Armand and Adrian exchange a grin. Two ruddy peas in the same cauldron. Sam took a seat next to my brother and gave me a small smile, which I returned. I leaned my head against the cold wall and closed my eyes to begin the waiting.

And wait we did. With the exception of one healer that came to tell us things were progressing, we didn't hear anything substantial until three in the morning when they said they had done everything they could and had ceased the blood flow and repaired the ruptured vessels. My father would live, but they were waiting for him to wake up before they could assess what kind of damage it would incur. They also recommended that we speak with the Ministry official in charge of his case regarding his future care: Azkaban or a paid St. Mungo's room in the forensic unit.

"Won't your coach be angry that you aren't getting any sleep?" I asked Oliver while he passed me a steaming mug of tea. After the wonderful news we received, I volunteered to get everyone hot drinks from the half-asleep witch that was working in the small cafeteria. It was pretty empty, except for a middle-aged man who was eating baby carrots. Oliver was adding sugar to the teas while I poured in the milk.

"Corey said he'd go at five and let her know what's happened. Maud is strict, but she's not that evil."  
I crooked an eyebrow and moved a mug aside to pour milk on another one. "You mean she's not as bad as you were? Remind me what were the one real excuses your players could use to miss practice."

"Death, a coma, paralysis or Quidditch-related amnesia." I snorted. Oliver gave me a lopsided grin and finished with the teas. I levitated them in front of us and we began walking back down to the fourth floor in silence. Oliver draped his arms over my shoulders and pulled me close. I almost lost my grip on my wand, and the floating tray faltered. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged, trying to ignore the warmth that was spreading from my shoulders down to my toes. "Alright, I suppose. It's not like any of us was expecting to have a normal relationship with him after everything. If he finishes his days at St. Mungo's it may be the best thing for him," I answered looking straight ahead. We were nearing the large stairs and I needed to concentrate on not dropping all of the drinks on the clean floor.

If William negotiated a bed for him at the hospital, it _would_ be a better place to be. Anything, even sterile walls and smell of antiseptic potions, was better than the cold damp loneliness of Azkaban. "He's still your dad."

"We parted a long time ago. It's hard to imagine him being a part of my life."

"If he stays here, you may be able to patch something up."

I shrugged and lowered my face so my fringe could cover it. 'Patching things up with my dad' sounded about as enticing as jumping into the black lake in the middle of February. But how could I even begin to explain the almost natural instinct inside my gut screaming to put as much distance between that man and myself as physically possible? Oliver knew what my father had done – and that he had never repented. His only regret was that he had made life harder for us, he never spared a thought for my mother, Edgar Bones' family or anybody else's.

Although, a small regret was probably better than none.

"What was that thing about Scotland?" I asked while Oliver held the door open for the trays to pass. My shoulder brushed against his shoulder while I ducked beneath his arm. I heard the door close behind me and footsteps that fell in line with mine. "Oliver?"

"It was an offer to go work for them. Next year is the World Championship; I reckon they want to increase their chances of doing better than they did in '94."

I scrunched my nose and counted backwards in my head. The World Championship was played every four years… "Why next year?"

Oliver gave me a deadpanned look as we rounded the corner, still going down the stairs. "It was cancelled last year because of the war. The International League couldn't hold it this year, because they've had to do some restructuring I suppose." I nodded, that sounded reasonable. Although You-know-who's reign hadn't been as extensive as say Grindelwald's, it had impacted most of the wizarding world. While I was exiled, it became clear how distant wizards and witches were from each other unless there was a direct threat. Ministries and communities around the world were monitoring the situation, all of them aware that as soon as power was consolidated in one area of Europe it would begin to spread across the globe like the black plague.

"So they offered you to keep? I thought Scotland had a decent keeper. What was his name? Mc-something."

"McCrary," Oliver replied stopping to open the door for the trays and myself. "And he's pretty decent, not as good as me though."

I laughed. "Of course not."  
"But they don't want me to play."

Well, that didn't make much sense. "What was their offer then?" I twisted my neck to look up and sideways. Oliver was staring at something in front of us; his jaw was locked and his eyebrows obscuring his eye.

"They want me to become their strategist."

I blinked. "Isn't that _good_?"

He didn't respond at once. I had to snap my head back in place since I almost bumped against a wall. "Strategizing is more… stable than playing. Quidditch players have a short professional lifespan, while this can last longer. It can also lead to coaching."

"But then you don't get to play."

"No, you don't get to play. You get to plan plays and teach others how to execute them, and then yell from the stands when they mess it up."

"And Puddlemere?" we were nearing the ward. I could hear Armand and April trying to have a hushed argument and failing rather badly.

"Puddlemere would have to promote the reserve keeper to first string, if I accept that is."

I stopped walking. Oliver walked a few steps ahead before realising I wasn't at his side. He turned around, his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. "I can't imagine you watching from the sidelines, even if you get yelling privileges. Not while you can still play."

His lips thinned and curled upwards into an awkward smile. "I can't either."

We delivered our charged and sat down to wait. William wasn't in the waiting room. "He's gone inside," Armand said. "He's waking up, but they want only one of us at a time so we don't overwhelm him. I'm thinking of not going in at all, too many revelations at once may give him another stroke." I choked on my tea. Beside me, Adrian spilled his on his lap from laughing too hard.

Idiots. "What'd you think he'd dislike more, the muggle part of the bloke part?"

Instead of being upset, both Armand and Sam laughed. I exchanged an exasperated look with Oliver. "Adrian, love, you are not one that can judge." I stared at Adrian, my eyes narrowed.

"Is there anything I should know?"

Adrian shrugged and Armand laughed. "Lisa, little sis, you are way too naïve too have been sorted into Slytherin." I exchanged another look with Oliver, but he shrugged, just as much in the dark as I am.

William was taking his sweet time. The clock had chimed four ten minutes ago. April had a healer go inside the room (after she was denied entrance) to make sure her husband hadn't been brutally murdered. It turned our William was just talking to dad; but all dad could do was keep his eyes open. The healers had said he needed to stay awake for several hours –something to do with his brain and all the blood and merlin-knows-what. I wasn't paying attention. I was having a hard enough time trying not to fall asleep on Adrian's shoulder. His body kept jerking every time Armand or he cracked a joke. It was quite annoying.

After a while, I got tired of not being able to sleep and stood up to plop myself next to Oliver who was sitting on the floor. I grabbed onto his arm and nuzzled my head against the curve of his neck. When it woke up there was light streaming from a window. The first thing I noticed was that Armand wasn't in the room and Adrian was snoring. The second thing I noticed was that William, April and Corey were all missing. The third thing I noticed was that I had drooled over Oliver's shirt. Trying to be conspicuous, I masked my attempts at cleaning his shirt and my mouth with one big, elaborate yawn.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Sam chirped. He seemed wide awake and was eating what looked like a croissant.

"Got any more of those to spare?" I asked, disentangling myself from Oliver. His eyes were half-open. I tried not to poke him while I stretched my back. Blimey, sleeping on the floor was bad for your joints. Sam saw me and smiled. He grabbed a white box that I hadn't noticed was sitting on an empty chair next to him. "Thanks," I said grabbing two and giving one to Oliver. "You know, you and Adrian can go home sleep."

There was a loud yawn from behind me. "Sleep… what is that?" I rolled my eyes and took a seat. My neck was stiff from sleeping and my bum was half-asleep. More so, a part of me really wanted to bang my head against a wall: the first time I get to 'sleep' with Oliver and it is on the dirty floor of a hospital ward.

I took a ferocious bite of my croissant. It tasted like sand, but it was a good biting-bag. I checked my watch and almost jumped. It was eight thirty. I had to be at work in half an hour. "Did the healers have any updates?" I asked Sam whom I supposed was the only one who had been awake the entire time.

It was Oliver who responded. "They are trying to feed him some breakfast, but your dad's having a hard time moving his jaw. I think they are going to go intravenous before doing functional and cognitive assessments."

"Armand's in there, but I'm sure he'd love to be released," Sam said. I nodded.

"I just need to let Kathryn know I won't be in today," I muttered, dreading having to get up and find a bleeding owl I could use. But if I didn't let her know, Kathryn would have a fit and I wasn't sure I could afford one – or wanted to deal with one.

"You stay, I'll deal with Kathryn," Oliver said. He put the rest of his food inside his mouth and stood up without needing to use his hands. "I have a feeling she'll be more receptive to me." Touché.

"I'll go with," Adrian jumped to his feet. He shook his head like a dog and then tried to flatten his hair. I narrowed my eyes. Oliver was looking at him oddly. Adrian flashed him a grin. "An entire building full of beautiful woman? How's a famous Quidditch player going to say no to that kind of attention?" I rolled my eyes. Oliver and Adrian said goodbye and walked down the hall. Well, Oliver walked, Adrian was positively skipping.

"I can see why Armand wants him as his brother-in-law," Sam said after a while. He had a wicked grin on his lips and his cheeks were flustered. "He's absolutely gorgeous – and seems quite smitten. Lucky lady."

My cheeks warmed up to the thought. I tried slapping his arm. "He's seeing my _boss_."

Sam dismissed my comment with one quick hand movement. "Girl, no bloke stays all night at a ruddy hospital for any girl."

I wanted to say that Adrian and Corey had been here all night too, but the thought was too enticing to simply push away.

oOo

Witch Weekly was known as the central of Wizarding gossip for a very real reason. The second I put in one foot inside the door, I was hassled by a lot of unrequited hugs and good will wishes. Kathryn even tried baking "for the family." Apparently Oliver had told her that William was practically glued to my dad's bedside. The healers said dad would recover the ability to talk and move the left side of his body soon enough – and William had made it his own mission to be there when it happened. April had already visited me in the morning to complain about it.

Which is what I was doing to Adrian that same afternoon. "It's insufferable," I said using my fork as a point of emphasis. Corey was passed out in his room and Oliver was out with Kathryn. April had managed to tear William away from St. Mungo's and nobody had heard from Armand yet. Gwen had stopped by on her way to her graveyard shift and brought some Chinese food from a nearby restaurant.

"That they are inquiring about your dad's health?" he said with a shrug, eating his chicken with his eyes glued to the telly. "They could've given you a much harder time."

"Like how?"

"Telling you that he got what he deserved being a ruddy Death Eater and all." I didn't reply – it made sense. Instead, I shrugged and finished off my rice before resting my head on my hands. Adrian was pointedly ignoring my gaze, and it was rather annoying, but I lacked the energy to push him. Whatever Armand had said probably wasn't as scandalous as I thought. Adrian had a few skeletons in his closet; Armand just had to pick one to censure Adrian's ability to comment on anyone's romantic relationships.

"I should get some sleep," I muttered and rubbed my eyes. Since the stroke, I had been diving my time between work and St. Mungo's since William had insisted we spend as much time as possible speaking to dad like he was a newborn child that needed to learn English. In fact, being inside the room with him was suffocating. His speech was reduced to a few baby-sounds and half of his face was partially paralyzed. What did you say to the man you had written off of your life after years of silence?

"I second that, Maud's been harder on us all week for missing one ruddy day," Adrian with in between yawns. He stood up and grabbed our plates and dropped them on the sink. I whisked my wand at them and watched as magic did the cleaning. "I swear to Merlin, she's Wood turned human."

I chuckled while I put the leftovers inside the fridge. I wanted to remind him that he hadn't actually played under Oliver's direct orders when the noise of a key startled me. I closed the fridge with a snap and forced the dishes to fall down on the sink. I yanked Adrian's sleeve and pushed him down next to the counters just as I heard the door creaking.

"What the hell-" I placed my hand on his mouth, silencing him. His blue eyes were screaming a steady stream of curses.  
"Shhh, I don't want to deal with Kathryn!" I almost jumped when I heard the door open. Adrian was trying to bite my hand, so I cast a silencing charm on him and around us. How'd I know that Oliver would bring Kathryn over, I wasn't sure. It was a hunch that was confirmed with a loud:

"How cute! You have a table just for putting your keys in!" ruddy Corey and his stupid design ideas. Oliver mumbled something I didn't catch. I heard footsteps, then the puff of bodies falling down on the sofa. Adrian rolled his eyes and took a seat on the cold floor. Scared that they'll somehow see us, I cast a non-verbal disillusionment charm on both of us.

The fact that it gave me the ability to stand up and _watch_ was just an added bonus.

Kathryn was sitting on top of Oliver and placing kisses on his neck. I gagged. Ruddy Wood, bringing his stupid girlfriend over our house when he knows perfectly well that—

"Kat," he had his hands placed firmly on her hips, he was facing the opposite side of the room, which I reckoned was good. I didn't want to be reminded of how dazzling Oliver looked when snogging. Scratch that, I wanted to slam my head repeatedly against the countertop until I too ruptured a couple of brain vessels. I felt Adrian brush against me; I tried searching for his eyes, but my charm was so expertly cast, I couldn't even distinguish the outline of his body. In any case, I knew what he would be trying to say if he could speak. "Just stop."

Stop? My head snapped sideways to comment with Adrian on the oddness of the statement, when I was reminded that I couldn't bloody see him. Well this is just wonderful, spying and not being able to laugh about what you saw. "Maybe I should do some of this?" Kathryn grabbed his face and began nibbling on his earlobe. My eyes narrowed. I was vaguely aware that my nails were digging inside my palm. "Or some of this…" her hand trailed down from his face, down to his shoulder, and kept on moving southward when Oliver grabbed it and held it away from his body.

"Not tonight," his voice sounded hoarse, and not from all the preliminaries. "We've already gone out to that restaurant, I have an early practice tomorrow and we are playing on Saturday-"

"So you should have fun tonight, that way your reserves will be up for the match."

"Kat."  
" _You_ brought me to your flat, Ollie," he released her hand and leaned his head back against the sofa.

"Because you insisted not because-"

"My own flat gets tiring every time, don't you think? I like to change settings," I wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and pluck her eyes out. But that would be self-defeating in itself. I would lose my job and probably end up in Azkaban and Oliver would still be snogging her senseless.

Take this the mature way, Elizabeth. Be the grown up.

"Kat, come on. You've seen the flat. I'm not hiding anything, but I really need some rest," his head was back up and he was veering Kathryn away from his, but she was fighting back. In the end, he managed to get her to sit on the coffee table. He had both of her hands clutched in his. She pouted.

"What's the big deal? It's Thursday you don't play," she moved her head in random circles, "whomever until two days for now. What kind of Quidditch superstar are you?"

Oliver sighed and let go of her hands. "The one that cares more about winning the League than being showed off by his girlfriend at fancy restaurants. If we defeat the Magpies on Saturday we'll be playing the Bats for the Cup for the first time in a decade-"

"Who cares? It's not like you'll be staying with Puddlemere for much longer," Kathryn said with a roll of her eyes. "You can pretend not to be tempted by Scotland's offer but I know better. You'll end up saying yes just in time to help them win the match against Transylvania-"

"Kat-"

"-because let's face it, your career as a keeper has a dead end. Not that I'm not enjoying being seen with a Quidditch player, I just think a National Team Quidditch Coach would be much more-"  
"Because this is all about you?" Oliver pushed himself off of the sofa. My heart caught in my throat as he walked close to the kitchen, before turning around and continuing to walk in circles. "You think I don't understand why you always choose the most popular wizarding restaurants? It'd be nice to have one ruddy dinner without a horde of paparazzi trying to –"

Kathryn also stood up. She walked up to Oliver and placed her hands on his shoulders, stopping his walk. "You need exposure. Why'd you think Scotland is giving you this one in a lifetime-"  
Oliver snorted but didn't push her away. "Right, because me being a good player has nothing to do with their offer. It's all because you've been parading me like a peacock just to get your picture taken dangling from my arm-"

"I don't dangle from your arm, Oliver. I have a wonderful career of my own, I don't need you to-"

"Then let me be," Oliver moved away from her. Kathryn's hands fell lifelessly to her sides. "I don't get why you want me around. You don't like Quidditch, we never agree on anything, all we do is-"

"Have fun."

"Exactly. But like you said, your flat gets boring after a while. Kat, we're just wasting time with each other."

Kathryn turned around, so I couldn't see her expression. There was a tingling sensation running all the way from my toes to the top of my head. "Oliver, even your _dad_ agrees that Scotland's offer shouldn't be shunned-"  
Oliver turned to face her faster than a speeding Quaffle. His face, shadowed by the dim light, look just a bit distorted. "You spoke to my dad about this?"

I heard Kathryn huff. "Yes, we've been owling each other since you insist on not introducing me. Believe it or not, I care for you and I want what's best for you so just-"

"Do whatever you tell me to? If you cared like you said, you wouldn't be talking to my dad behind my back"

"I only did it because-"

"You care, yes I get it," the spite on Oliver's voice was something I had only heard once: when Williams had told him that she still had feelings for him after the Ravenclaw game. That memory didn't have nearly the same happy effect on me as this conversation was. "What you don't seem to get is that I am not a toy or a little boy in need of guidance."

"I'm just telling you what I think."

"I don't care what you think," ouch. "Kathryn, you don't want what's best for me, but for you. And you don't ruddy care, you just wanted to brag that you slept with a Quidditch player, and you have. So just drop the act, it doesn't suit you."

There was silence. My insides were doing the conga. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Oliver ran a hand through his hair. "You can't tell me you thought this was _serious_. Blimey, Kat, we can't go one day without arguing and then-"

"We tumble in bed. Were you just trying to get laid?" her voice reached a higher octave. Kathryn's small frame was shaking as she rushed by him to retrieve her coat. "You know, Eliza always spoke about what a gentleman you are, but you really are just an _arse_."

"Leave Sarah out of this-"

"Yes, I forgot. Your stupid term of endearment," her lips curled upwards and she opened the door. "When will you understand that she's not a ruddy fairy-tale princess but a real woman with flaws? Perhaps when you grow up and start seeing things for what they are, your ruddy life will improve," she slammed the door and my heart bumped against my ribcage. In the silence that followed, it was hard to breathe and not be heard. Oliver stood in the middle of the room for a long time, before darting towards his room.

Adrian cast the counter curse, and I watched his body slowly reappear. "Well, I'm lad we got good seats for _that_ show."

"What'd you think Kathryn meant?" Adrian gave me a questioning shrug. "About Oliver calling me by my first name."

"You've never realized it?" I shook my head, Armand's taunting words running through my mind: _you are way too naïve too have been sorted into Slytherin_. "Blimey, Liz. Oliver's always looked at you through a ruddy pink-colored glass. I think Kathryn's right, he needs to stop dreaming of princesses.."  
"And you're saying _I'm_ his impossible princess?"

"Not you, silly. Oliver's in love with a fake idea nobody will ever measure up against."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 – Killed

Of course, Kathryn was bowling her eyes out the next morning. It had been just like when I broke up with Ethan – everyone was surrounding her and bringing large quantities of chocolate, ice-cream, and chocolate ice-cream. How she managed to see me over the horde of mourners, I'm not sure. But not only did she see me; she also leaped and attached her sobbing-self to me. "Eliza!"

"I'm sorry, Kathryn" I said patting her back and trying to sound as empathic as possible. Adrian had coached me last night on what to say and what tone of voice to use. "I heard this morning – Oliver seemed quite wretched-"  
"Was he?" her eyes were red and full of tears. She looked so sad it did tug at my heart. I gave her a small smile and returned the hug with increased honesty.

"He didn't _say_ much – but that's how you know he's upset," Kathryn sobbed. She let go of me and straightened up, taking a handkerchief from a pocket and blowing her nose.

"It's just so awful – but for the best, I suppose," she leaned in so nobody else could hear her whisper. "He's such a child. I swear, looking back, he was never really that into me. I don't think he's _ever_ liked a woman for who she is," the conversation I had with Adrian flashed back in my mind. Could Oliver really be blindly chasing for an impossible? And if that was true, what did it say about me? Did I really fancy Oliver Wood, or like Gwen had said, I was still hung up on his seventh year version? "I think I got out early. I mean it was fun, a younger man, a Quidditch Player, godforsaken body- but it really was just a short dream, and I deserve more than just good sex."

I gulped. "Yes, you deserve a man who loves you for who you are and sees how wonderful you are," I lied through my teeth. Adrian had told me to say that and for the looks of it, Kathryn believed me. She smiled and gave me a small hug.  
"I have good news for you," she said before walking away. I followed her. The horde of mourners had dispersed, and Alice was sending me unspoken death threats with her glares. I ignored her. Kathryn grabbed a piece of parchment she had on her desk and handed it to me. I opened it as quick as I could and gasped. "See? I told you, you got the interview!"

The letter was written by Miranda Winterstorm herself. The interview for the position was scheduled for Friday August 27th. "It's the EuroCup, Witch Weekly will be covering it after all, it'll be a month full of hot players and all in Britain! It'll give you time to prepare, I can help you if you'd like-"

"Kathryn," I looked up from the parchment and smiled. "Thank you, for everything."  
She waved her perfectly manicured hand. "What are friends for, hm?"

oOo

After Kathryn's and Oliver's breakup, the next thing on my mind was the trip to Hogwarts. I asked Armand one day while we were visiting dad, which William was insisting we did, and he said it was common for Hogwarts to invite students for a weekend after they left. Apparently, it was also tradition not to let younger students know about this, so they get a kick out of the surprise.

Adrian was being nonchalant about it, but I was downright thrilled. Even Willow, who was busy decorating was eager to go.

"An entire weekend not needing to cook or tell Ryan not to play with his food," she said with a wistful look. Willow was standing precariously on top of a chair, waving her wand at a new set of deep purple drapes she had bought for the shop. "It'll be a dream come true."

Gwen snorted. With the winter months behind us and spring in full bloom, St. Mungo's was having a smaller caseload and she was able to begin taking weekends off. "You do realise that opening a business is only going to make your life busier, right? And where do these go?" she was holding two large golden candelabra.

"Just leave them by that wall, I haven't figure out what I want to do with them. Rowan got them," Willow replied, flicking her wand and making the drapes turn. I was in charge of making sure the handing chandeliers were secure enough not to fall on someone's head. "Are you going with Wood, Lisa?"

I almost dropped a piece of crystal on the floor. Cursing, I sent Willow a withering glare. "Why would I?" Oliver and I had both been single for the past month and a half, but what with coming second in the League but still qualifying for the EuroCup, Puddlemere had increased training sessions to the point in which I felt like I was living alone. In fact, Adrian was complaining that Maud almost wouldn't let them come to Hogwarts because it would mean an entire weekend off.

Gwen was giggling; instead of helping arrange the tables she was having fun at my expense. Brat. "The invitation says we can bring a plus one."  
"He has his own ruddy invitation; he doesn't need to be my plus one."

Willow and Gwen exchanged an amused glance. "Just keep me posted on developments, I'd hate for Marcus to beat me."

I rolled my eyes and jumped off the chair I was standing in. All my friends suck, of course they were betting on my seemingly-non-existent-future with Oliver Wood. "And I don't want to give Pucey the satisfaction either. I rather like holding the title."

"Is Francis in on this again?" I muttered, walking towards the half-set up service-area where Rowan was leaving samples of new pastries for us to try while we decorated. I grabbed something orange and bit into it.

"Armand and April have twenty galleons each."

Wonderful.

"What _are_ you all betting on?" I asked, summoning a chair from the disorganized pile at the corner and taking a seat. Gwen shrugged.

"The usual, when you two will stop being denser than a ruddy house-elf confronted with freedom."

"Honestly, Elizabeth, you are both single. I don't know what's keeping you."

I toyed with my orange pastry (I hadn't decided if it was meant to be pumpkin or orange flavor) and kept quiet. The truth was, imagining beginning a relationship with Oliver felt like it would be too much. We are older now and, even if I hated to admit it, Ethan may have been right that sooner or later we would run out of time to play around and would want to settle down. If Oliver and I went out, there would be no mucking up and making up. Out of Hogwarts, relationships seemed so much more serious – and I wasn't quite sure if I was ready for a lifetime without hearing that annoying Scottish accent.

Then, of course, there was the possibility that things wouldn't be ruined – but that was a scarier thought in and out of itself.

"Well, Hogwarts shall give you an ideal opportunity to sort out your stupidity," Gwen reached for a pink pastry. "Luckily for you, I'll be there to see it all!"

"You didn't get an invitation."  
Gwen giggled. "Silly, I'll be your plus one!"

I looked down at my own pastry feeling awfully deflated.

oOo

The day to board the train that would take us back arrived sooner than expected. The breezy, summer wind was making my hair fly around me and poke me in the eyes. I pushed it away, wondering for a moment where the year had ruddy gone. In about a month I'd be celebrating my first year back home. It was odd, knowing so much time had passed by so quickly.

"Will you hurry up?"

I rolled my eyes. Francis had been stuck carrying my luggage as well as Gwen's and his own, just like old times. And he wasn't happy. He had been snapping at us since we left our flat earlier this morning. Adrian and Oliver had ventured forwards and away from the bickering old Gryffindor. "Cheer up, you'll be back in your old bed and eating proper food in no time," I replied, wheezing past him and trying to catch up to Gwen.

Platform nine and three quarters wasn't as hectic as I was used to. It was only the class of 1994 that was coming back, and their plus ones. The lack of crying mothers and terrified first years contributed to the sense of otherworldliness.

"Look at that, little miss prefect showed up alone," I stopped walking, took a deep breath and plastered a saccharine smile on my face before turning to face the owner of that horrible voice. Darlene looked as stunning as she had back in the day: bright blond curls thrown over petite white shoulders, blue eyes shining maliciously and pursed blood-red lips.

"Not all of us have husbands in Azkaban. How's that going?" her eyes narrowed and I smirked. Elizabeth 1, Darlene 0.

"Oi, move it, don't just stand there," Francis had caught up to me, the three trunks floating beside him. Darlene threw him an obnoxious look before giggling.

"Yes well, at least not all of us need to resort to coming with our _cousins_. Trying to keep the bloodline pure, Montieth?"

"I'm surprised Darlene," another voice said behind me. Adrian. "If memory doesn't fail me, not even your own cousin would've married you. Must be sad to be so beautiful and yet no one likes you." I laughed and I think even Francis snorted as Darlene threw us another terrible glare and walked away, her high heels clicking against the hot floor. "Some things never change… Let's go, Gwen's found us a good compartment and I reckon the Flints should be here soon."

Francis walked with us long enough to dump our bags in front of the compartment Gwen had chosen. He bade us farewell and walked away to find his old housemates. I levitated our bags and placed them on the space on the top of the compartment. Gwen was looking through the window like it was her first trip. "It's weird, isn't it? Going back."

"You were there last year," I said with a yawn, plopping myself next to her and placing my feet on top of Adrian's legs. "It can't be that weird."

Gwen shuffled around and sat down. "It is after everything that's happened. I wonder if they managed to restore all of the castle-"

Of course, the war. Times like these, I forget that almost everyone around me fought during the battle. "Don't you lot look cheery," the compartment door opened and Willow and Flint walked in. For once, Willow was wearing a summery yellow dress instead of her usual dosage of purple and black. Flint look the same.

"You didn't bring Ryan?" I asked. I had glimpsed at least two babies. Willow gave me a silencing look before she took a seat next to me. Flint sniggered at Adrian who shrugged, and they were soon into a Quidditch-related conversation.

"First is the regional elimination – we need to win against the Harpies, the Tornados and the Magpies. We already beat the Harpies," Adrian threw me a mocking grin. I shook my head. It had been a sad day for the Harpies. Puddlemere squashed them 200-30 within three hours. And those three goals they scored because Oliver got bludgers to the stomach. Couldn't eat anything solid sice. "And we're playing the Tornados again after we get back – Maud almost had a heart attack when we told her we'd miss two full days of practice. Thank Merlin Wilda was able to talk her down."  
"And on Friday you play the Magpies, right?" Gwen said. Adrian looked startled, as if the question was uncalled for.

"Yes. The Sunday after we start playing the other countries teams."

"If you make it."

Adrian's grin didn't lessen. "Don't worry, blondie, we'll make it." There was his self-sufficient belief.

"Has Oliver said anything about Scotland's offer?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing even to my own ears. I knew that Oliver had gotten several more letters from the Scottish team as I had seen them arrive. I even got a good look at one of them the other morning while he was showering. They were expecting him to answer by the 20th of August – just before the final game in the EuroCup.

Adrian looked grim for a moment. "I know they're still bothering him about it. Oliver's mentioned to Wilda that his dad is really excited about the opportunity, coaching for their home country and what not. But I don't think he'll say yes, not while there is the slightest chance that we may make it to the EuroCup finals. We lost the League by a pinch, I'll murder him if he fails us for the EuroCup."

I nodded. It made sense; Oliver was competitive at heart, and a good team player. He wouldn't ditch his team if there was a chance to win.

But what if they were disqualified before they reached the finals?

I tried to shake the thought away. It wasn't a productive line of thinking, like most things related to Oliver Wood lately. I sighed and tried to concentrate on the conversation, which had switched to embarrassing old Hogwarts stories, but couldn't. There was a nagging pulling inside my chest, like I somehow knew something was going to happen.

I was being ridiculous, I thought as the day waned and we were getting closer to the castle. I was just being sentimental about returning to Hogwarts after all these years. It was only fitting to feel like big things were heading my way when you returned to such a magical place.

Right?

"Earth to Lisa," I blinked. Gwen was waving her hand in front of my face, her lips turned into a knowing smile. "We're here, sleepy head. Get your bag, I tried to fetch Francis but he refused to play lap dog," she finished with a roll of her eyes. Feeling flustered, I stood up and levitated my bag in front of me like Gwen was doing and followed her out of the train.

The first thing I noticed was that there was no shout of 'First years!' I wondered if I'd get to see Hagrid at all? I walked in silence until we spotted the horse-less carriages. Adrian was standing in front of them with his mouth hanging open. "Practicing a fish impersionation?" I asked, bumping my shoulder against him.

"The carriages," he mumbled, pointing at them. "They're not _horseless._ "

"Thestrals," Gwen voice came from behind me, giving me goosebumps. Thestrals?

"But you can only see those if-"

"You've seen someone die," another voice with a distinct Scottish drawl said. I jumped, almost tipping over but Oliver held me by the shoulders. "I reckon after the Battle a lot of us can see them now." His hands felt oddly cold on my skin. We stood, staring at the not-so-horseless carriage (it still looked horseless to me, but I reckon that was a _good_ thing), until Willow sauntered by, saying something about food. I tried to shake Oliver's hands from me, but his grip was tight.

"Oliver?"

He blinked and shook his head. As if coming from a daze, he took his hands from me and run one through his mop of brown hair. "Blimey, sorry. I wasn't expecting-"

"To see them?"  
He nodded. "It's a little disconcerting."

"I imagine," we fell silent. I was staring past his shoulder, towards the crowd that was stepping onto their carriages. Some, like Oliver and Adrian, were staring open-mouthed at them. "Are we going in?"

Oliver's eyes flickered over. "Sure," he held the door open for me and I squeezed in next to Adrian. The carriages seemed a lot smaller now than they did five years ago, when Oliver joined in, I was jammed between two blokes, half my arse hanging out of the seat until I got tired and simply sat on Adrian's lap. We rode to Hogwarts in silence.

The sight of the castle in full summer bloom was enough to wipe away all memories of the Battle. Hogwarts stood like a beacon of lighted lanterns shinning against the dusk backdrop, untouched by time. The air was colder here than it was in London, but it carried the sweet smell of summer dew and the black lake. Up close, you could see small signs of wear and tear, remnants of the battle. The marble on the main staircase was cracked at places where a dark curse had hit and no magic would remove the stain. Some of the entrance gargoyles were missing a horn or had a damaged wing or paw. The large, oak doors, on the other hand, seemed untouched.

Noise of chatter was coming from the Great Hall when we walked in. Filch was sulking at the entrance. "Leave your bags here," he grunted and pointed towards a sizable pile. "They'll be delivered to your rooms." Gwen and I stifled a chuckle but left out bags there and walked towards the Great Hall.

The four tables were situated just where they had been during my seven years at the school. The ceiling reflected the dying summer sun, and a few stars could be seen. Up on the teacher's table, Professor McGonagall was sitting, chatting with Professor Sprout. Professor Flitwick and an old, fat man whom I didn't recognized, but gathered was the new head of Slytherin, were engaged in what looked like a drinking game.

Oliver waved us goodbye and jogged towards the Gryffindor table. My eyes landed on Abigail Williams. A friend of hers was nudging her on the ribs and they began whispering excitedly. Once Oliver approached, Williams puffed her chest out and pushed her hair backwards, so any living being with working retinas could get a perfect view of her rack.

I rolled my eyes and followed Gwen towards the Slytherin table. Adrian and Flint were already drinking. "Elf wine? Butterbeer, did they actually put firewhiskey?" I asked, lifting each bottle in turn. Willow had a glass of wine in her hands. "Blimey, I never thought I'd see the day I get drunk at Hogwarts without fear of expulsion."

"That never seemed to stop you before," I cringed. Of course, he'd be here. Why wouldn't he? I plastered another smile on my face and turned around to feat my eyes on the newcomer.

Time hadn't changed Terrence much. Same broad shoulders, same tamed sandy-blond hair, same cocky expression on his handsome face. The only thing different from seventh year was the lack of a prefect badge on his breast, and the appearance of dark semi-circles beneath his eyes. He caught me staring and winked before taking a seat too close to me for comfort. "Elizabeth Montieth, as beautiful as always."

"Drown in the lake."

He laughed. It brought me memories. Memories of broom closets and snuggling on the leather sofas. Memories I hadn't thought about in a very long time. "As charming too. Tell me, are you here alone?" he leaned in, his warm breath tickling the side of my face. I balled my hands into fists.

"No, I brought my cousin."  
"How endearing," he said, his lips curling just over his teeth. "Well, should you get the urge to become reacquainted with some of Hogwarts' best hiding spots, do let me know." I scooted closer to Gwen. Terrence chuckled and poured himself a hefty amount of Firewhiskey in a glass. "Relax, Lisa. We are grownups now."

"Older idiot, bigger idiot," Gwen muttered under her breath. I was about to laugh when I heard someone knocking a fork against a glass. Five years had not been long enough for anyone to forget the meaning of that.

McGonagall was standing. She looked older and more tired than before, but you could still glimpse the strength beneath the aging skin. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she spoke with the same force, and I wondered if maybe I imagined that she looked older. "It has been a while. As Headmistress, it is my pleasure to welcome you for the evening. Do not obey the old segregation by house; mingle amongst your classmates as you'd like. Tomorrow, you'll be free to stay and wander around the castle or Hogsmade, or return home by train if it pleases you. Now, enjoy your evening."

Food appeared on the gold plates just like it always had. The chatter livened up again as people began banging glasses and laughing. There was movement as some people travelled from table to table to mingle as McGonagall had suggested. I stayed put, grabbing some salad.

So did Terrence.

"I'm surprised you are still available, Lisa," Terrence said, reaching for a bowl of potatoes in front of me. His arm brushed against my shoulder, irritating me. "Such a beautiful, talented witch-"

"You don't do rejection very well do you, Terry?" I grabbed the bowl he couldn't reach and thrust it in his face. A bit of potato hit his cheek. Score.

"I'm just being curious. I mean, you're not getting any younger are you?" he began slapping potatoes on his plate, a self-sufficient smile never leaving his lips. "Me on the other hand, I'm only getting handsomer and richer."

"I get it the family business is booming then?" I replied taking a bite out of my food. I knew Adrian was listening in to our conversation, and I figured even Gwen had an ear perked up. "I thought all the sanctions the Ministry put on questionable pureblood families might have dampened things."

Terrence laughed. "You have been sadly misinformed. The Higgs took no sides." That warranted some attention. Terrence had always held Pureblood ideals high and mighty; what had stopped him from joining an army of supporters that had seemed to carry the advantage for the majority of the time? "Self-preservation," he said as if he had read my thoughts. "Why fight when others would regardless? Once things were definite, then I could profess enlightenment and join whoever won."

"And that is one of the primary reasons why I dumped you."

He crooked an eyebrow. "And the other ones?"

"You are a foul cockroach," I said turning my attention back to my meal, but I wasn't hungry anymore. Slytherin self-preservation I could understand, share even. But I couldn't imagine willfully waiting by the sidelines for others to craft a new future, to take no part, to have so little moral standard that I wouldn't even choose a side. At least my father had stuck to his convictions; he had fought for them to the bitter end. I couldn't agree with the choices he had made, but I could respect that he didn't just wait passively.

"You think you're better than me," Terrence hissed, bringing me out of my reverie. "But deep inside, you're just as much as a stinking coward, Elizabeth. There's a reason you got sorted into Slytherin, we act only in ways that benefit us. Cunning, ambition, the end justifies the means, remember?"

I looked at him passively. He made perfect sense, of course. Why sacrifice yourself at all for a cause you didn't quite believe? After all, Terrence supported Pureblood supremacy simply because it benefited him; it gave him the advantage of the privileged. There was value in defending that kind of power, but it was dangerous as well, should you lose. There is safety in inaction, but there is also stagnation.

A small smile crossed my lips. It was as if puzzle pieces were falling together. Risk nothing, gain nothing. Terrence may boast of having escaped the war unscathed, but he couldn't see that he had reaped nothing worth showing. Carrying the label of coward or just sloth was more damning than picking a side.

"You can't have it all, Terrence. Everything is a risky gamble," I watched as Terrence's glamour faded into anger. His usual pale cheeks colored. He opened his mouth to retort but then closed it down. A shadow had fallen over us. Uneasily, I turned around. "Oliver?"

"Is he bothering you?" Oliver's jaw was clenched; his hard were staring down at Terrence with no intention of hiding his displeasure.

Terrence slouched backwards; his cashmere grin returned. "I would never bother Lisa. She _loves_ my company," Oliver's arm twitched. I placed a hand on it and stood up. Terrence laughed and turned around to focus on his food

"Come on, let's go outside," I said to Oliver, ignoring Adrian who was wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. I ignored him, and poked Gwen on the way out for good measure. Oliver wasn't hard to lead out of the Great Hall when he cooperated. We made our way outside in silence. The sun had fully gone down and the stars were visible. You could hear the crickets. Oliver skipped a few steps ahead of me. "Did you really just come over to see if Terrence was bothering me? Because you know, it's gallant and all but-"

"How much do you know about how Nicholas died?"

I stopped talking and stared at Oliver's back. His shoulder blades were visible even from behind; they were pulled in together. His arms were handing by his side, his hands balled into fists. The summer breeze suddenly didn't feel so comfortable. "I know he died during the Battle; a jinx, counter course, never really bothered thinking about it."

Oliver didn't say anything for a long time. I shuffled my feet, keeping the distance he had decided on and getting more worried by the second. I remembered Adrian telling me that the Battle had affected Oliver in more ways than I could imagine; that he had seen too many people die, that he hadn't been able to save Katie Bell. Was coming back to Hogwarts only a year later too much too soon?

"His body was found right here, you know?" his voice startled me. I looked down to where he was standing. He had turned around and was now looking up at me. His face was unreadable, his brown eyes shadowed. "It was just when You-Know-Who called a ceasefire. Death Eaters didn't bother picking up one of their own, I suppose. So they left him here. The order moved his body next to the other enemy casualties, away from ours."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to know."  
"Oliver," I said, taking a step down. "Nicholas chose a different camp, he fought and died for the enemy side, how he died isn't really a concern."

He laughed a lifeless laugh. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Then how would you react to knowing I'm the one who killed him?"


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 – Confessed Part I

"Would that change things for you?" Oliver's eyes were darting across my face, but never landing in mine. I wanted to reply, to _say_ something, but how do you reply to a confession like that one? Oliver seemed to take my lack of response for a positive one. "I figured," he cracked a sad smile. I thought he would walk past me and let me marinate in what he had said.

My legs felt like jelly. I leaned against the marble banister feeling my chest heaving. Oliver didn't move an inch. "Do you want the full story?"

I nodded, not trusting my vocal cords. I stared at my toes. Gwen had painted them coral before we left. That had been yesterday. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"The Weasley twins messaged me, letting me know the battle had started. So we all flew over – my entire Gryffindor team was there," for a moment his lip curled upwards into a small smile. "Adrian came with, so did Flint, Owen, Evie, your brothers… McGonagall and everyone designed a battle plan. Adrian, who's better when hexes, he went up to Ravenclaw Tower to fight from there. I stayed on the grounds."

"The Battle, it was carnage," Oliver said, his words washing over me instead of puncturing me. I closed my eyes and listened, trying to imagine. "People were running everyone, there was shouting, people calling each other, hexing each other. The ruddy walls were shaking and every time one Death Eater went down, more appeared. Robbed, masked – people screamed when they saw them. It's hard to kill something you don't see, you know? It's hard not knowing who is on the other side."

"It didn't take long for things to go from bad to nightmare," he paused giving me a moment to ask questions, but I shook my head and he continued. "Within moments the only things you could really see was dust everywhere – and jinxes, red, green. Then something shook the castle, some of the stones came dislodged and they rained on us. One knocked me down. When I stood up, Katie Bell was screaming at me. She had her leg trapped. I run to her, we tried to… disentangle it but it only broke," he explained how he had almost gotten her free when a blast of bright green light ended her life.

"She was limp but still warm, and all I could see was blond hair everywhere and behind her –a laughing Death Eater," his voice strained and his eyes closed. I wanted to reach over and place a comforting hand on his cheek, but every muscle in my body had been turned to lead. "I followed him, chased him across the Entrance Hall, down this stairs-"

His hands were moving as if trying to draw the circuit he had run. "I stupefied him; he fell down," his fingers trailed down the motion. "A couple of steps. I flipped him over, ready to slaughter him but… It was Nicholas staring back at me, baring his teeth and laughing like it was a ruddy _joke_."

If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the exact expression in my brother's eyes he was trying to describe. I had seen it many times. "He dared me to kill him, and I wanted to, oh Merlin I wanted to – but I couldn't," I opened my eyes to look at him. His face was scrunched up, as if he were trying to convey the conflicting emotions of that moment in time. "But I couldn't kill him."

"Why?" my voice sounded hoarse.

"Because he was your brother! We went on vacation together for Merlin knows how many bloody years. I knew what he had turned into, but I still couldn't," his breathing sounded haggard. I nodded, understanding and he continued. "Then he mocked Katie's death. You know, said he was going to kill me instead, got up, pointed his wand at me and I felt like a right idiot. And then he threatened to kill _you_."

That startled me. "He threatened to kill _me_?" there had been no love between us but blimey…

Oliver took a step forward so he was only one step below me. I could see the tension draining from his shoulders. His eyes met mine for the first time. "I should've thought of Briana, but it was your face that floated in my mind at that instant. It was your safety that mattered," his hand reached forward to grab mine. I was surprised by how warm they hands were. "Then You-Know-Who called a ceasefire," his voice lowered, or maybe my ears were ringing. As he spoke, it was as if the scene were occurring again, in slow motion. I could imagine Oliver tensing before firing his jinx, my brother laughing before firing his; a stream of red clashing against a stream of green, the red winning, the green ending my brother's life.

"Adrian woke me up, I don't know how long after. When I looked down, Nicholas' body was twisted, as if he had broken his neck falling down."

Oliver's hand was gripping mine tight enough to slow the blood flow. I know he wanted me to speak, to reassure him that I didn't think he was a monster. But there was only one burning question. "I don't get it, why would Nicholas threaten to kill me? I mean, to _you_."

Oliver bit his lip. "You see, he said he was going to kill _her_ , the one I care for. And I just knew he meant you. I don't know if he meant it to rile me up or carry it out, but I knew that if I died, I couldn't let anyone hurt you. He could've meant my wife, but Briana never even crossed my mind."

My eyes widened and my mouth rounded. "You mean he didn't-?'

"Say your name?" Oliver finished with a small, sad smile. "No. And that's the thing isn't it? I didn't stop to think who he was talking about. I just knew I needed to keep him from getting to you."

"Briana-"

"Was home and far from my mind," I nodded, still silent. Too many thoughts and emotions were running through my head. It was clear to me that Nicholas must have been threatening me; he had no reason to go against Briana Cauldwell, but he did have a grudge against his little sister. I looked over at Oliver, trying to find the answer to whatever was crawling inside my heart. "Slytherin's know how to find man's thumbscrew. You brother was no different."

I exhaled and found it difficult to inhale again. For a long moment, I could get no breath in or out. I figured this is what a punctured lung must feel like: like drowning, your fingertips grazing the open air but knowing you'd never reach it. "Briana, she said-she said she couldn't help you but that I may be able to."

A puzzled expression crossed Oliver's face. "When did she say this?"

I shook my head. "But it makes sense. After you thought of me-"

"I couldn't in good conscience go back to her. I tried," he said quickly, the pressure of his hand increasing on mine. "But I couldn't. She figured it out and broke it off when I didn't have the courage to admit to my own wife that I was in love with someone else."

My throat constricted. Every internal organ was crying in agony, curling around each other and trying to disappear. _I didn't have the courage to admit to my own wife that I was in love with someone else_. Blimey.

Oh bugger, bugger, bugger.

Just let me crawl down, lay in fetal position and try very hard to die. All this time-? And what about-? Oh bugger.

"Sarah?" his voice roused me up. I pulled my hand from his. I was shaking. Oliver's eyes widened, then looked down. He must have seen the fear in my face and thought it disgust. Of course; first he tells me he killed my brother, then he confesses to having his feelings for me ruin his marriage and then he goes off and uses the bloody four-letter word.

"Oliver I-," I mumbled. I had already peeled myself from the banister and taken steps backwards. My legs were shaking and I was afraid my knees would buckle over. He was looking at me, pleading. What was he expecting, me to jump into his arms and pretend I wasn't ruddy freaked out? "I'm sorry," I croaked, turned around and run upstairs towards the dungeon.

He didn't follow me.

I was out of breath, my heart having to work overload to bring oxygen to my non-functioning brain. The Slytherin Common Room door opened without a password. Adrian and Gwen were playing chess while Flint and Willow watched. They turned to watch me come in but I rushed past them and up towards our old bedroom. I found a bed, my bed, and threw myself on top of it, grabbing at the comforter like a lifeline. I buried my head in the silk pillows and stifled a loud scream.

How could he?

How could he bloody tell me all of this, dump all of this shit, after everything that's happened? Oh no Sarah, I just want to be friends, I don't want you to think that because I almost kissed you the second after I got divorced that I may as well be BLOODY IN LOVE WITH YOU! Oh no, no, we're just good friends with a penchant for almost snogging and then getting caught at the last second!

I screamed again and began hitting the bed with all my might.

That egotistical idiot. I was going to rip his head straight form his shoulders and feed it to a bleeding chimera and then-

"Lisa?" Willow's voice roused me up. I jumped to my knees and stayed on all fours. My chest was heaving in air, my wrist were barely supporting me. "Are you having another Oliver-Wood-induced panic attack, because honestly, it's about time the two of you begin acting like grownups this is getting-"

"He killed Nicholas."

Willow's footsteps stopped. "What?"

"He killed Nicholas," I replied, sitting back on my legs and facing her. I had the urge to laugh and I indulged. Willow sat down next to me, staring as if I were a case for St. Mungo's. I'm sure the idea of calling on Gwen for a psychological checkup crossed her mind. "And then he has the guts to tell me he's fancied me all this ruddy time," I added strange arm gestures for emphasis and keeping the details out. Ignorance is bliss. "After he tells me that there's nothing going on between us other than friendship for the past, I don't know, year?'

"Elizabeth, calm down," Willow grabbed my hands mid-air and pinned them down. "What in Salazar's name are you talking about?" I told her the whole story; from the night after his divorce with Briana, what said ex-wife had said to me on Halloween, to Valentine 's Day to tonight. By the end of it, Willow was gaping just as much as I had. "Blimey-"

"Mental, isn't it?"

"I was going to say romantic, but I suppose that works," she said with a small shrug.

"Romantic?" I spat the word out like it was mud. "He's been trailing me along-"

"He's been trying to do the same thing you have," Willow's voice was uncompromising. Her brown eyes pinned me down and made me feel like a five year old. "You both have been trying to figure out where you stand and you've-hit a few rocks along the way."

I snorted. Willow ignored me. "Just _listen_ for once," she let go of my hands and caressed the side of my hair. I pouted and crossed my arms, doing my best imitation of a small child. She chuckled. "You two had a strong bond back at Hogwarts – but that was years ago. The he realised that maybe he wasn't quite as over you as he thought, the life he had worked to construct begins to crumble down and you waltz right back in at the most critical moment. But it's been five years. Who knows if you even are the same people? And then you both had a lot of reorganizing to do, Oliver wasn't the official Puddlemere keeper until the other got murdered last year… he had his career, a failed marriage, can you honestly blame him for wanting some time?"

"Yes."

Willow slapped me. "Don't be petty. You were thinking around the same lines."

"But I would've _tried_. I wouldn't pretend that we had platonic feelings for an entire year. I'm supposed to be the liar and the cheat but I wanted to be honest."

"You do understand that relationships are a tug-and-pull war, don't you? You _have_ to dance with him too, not everything can happen at your pace."

I turned around and laid back down on the bed so Willow had my lovely back to face. She sighed and stood up. I heard her walk out of the bedroom. "He's just given you an open door, Liz. The question is, are you ready to go for what you want, and do you even know what that is?"

I threw a pillow at the closed door. My breathing had slowed, but it was still shallow. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to get that job at Witch Weekly, to continue building my career towards my dream of becoming an editor of that ruddy magazine. I wanted to learn from Miranda Winterstorm. I wanted to succeed. I wanted it all.

And I wanted to figure out what to do with my newest Woody-related problem.

The next morning I woke up earlier than everyone. Gwen was fast asleep on the bed next to mine. I imagined Willow and Flint must've gotten an entire room for themselves, since she wasn't in here. Darlene was also gone, but that was a reason to celebrate, not complain. Since I hadn't changed last night, I grabbed a fresh outfit and popped in for a quick shower. The hot water did little to soothe me. I packed everything and transfigured my large traveling bag into a smaller handbag. I left the room and made my way towards the entrance hall.

Hogwarts was completely deserted. I gathered most people had used this opportunity to celebrate and rejoice and drink up, which translated to a lot of hangovers and no one awake at seven in the morning. The house elves, however, had already prepared breakfast. It was oddly comforting to eat alone beneath the enchanted ceiling; or it would've been, if I didn't have the feeling I was running away from a stampede of angry rhinoceros.

As soon as I was done eating, and relishing on the wonderful Hogwarts food, I left the castle. I walked at a fast pace towards Hogsmeade, not stopping to smell the flowers and apparated home as soon as I was out of Hogwarts' bounds. I transfigured my bag back to what it was, and threw in extra clothes. It was only eight-thirty on a Sunday, but I could always count on Armand to be awake. Ruddy git could never sleep past eight, no matter how much drinking he had done the night before.

Sam opened the door when I knocked. He was wearing a bright red tee and blue boxers, his expression wide awake. "Good morning, Lizzie."  
"Move," I pushed past him and dropped my bag on the floor. The last time I had been to Armand's apartment had been when I run off from home at the age of seventeen. Other than changing the carpet, the flat looked the same. At least I could smell pancakes. "Armand," I yelled. "I'm moving in. I hope that's ok!" Sam opened his mouth, but once again I pushed past him and towards the spare room where I had stayed five years ago. It was packed from floor to ceiling with boxes, but I could still make out the small foldable sofa I had called a bed. I took out my wand and pushed the boxes to the far side, leaving some room around the bed. The closet was full of old clothes, which I resized to fit into a smaller partition.

I was half-way through hanging my stuff when Armand knocked on the door. "What did Oliver Wood do and do I need to jinx him?"

My lips curved to a half smile. I turned around and leaned against the closet. "You make me sound predictable."

Armand chuckled and sat down on the bed. "Lizzie, you are my little sister. Whenever you come up with a crazy idea such as moving in with me, Oliver Wood is involved. Now let's go have breakfast, and you can tell me all about it. I'll listen and pretend to understand, Sam will do all the empathising. We'll devise a plan of attack later, sound good?"

"It sounds wonderful."

Like Armand had said, Sam had gasped and commented at all the right times which was oddly satisfying. It was good to have _someone_ who understands just how confusing this situation was without judging me or calling me an immature brat. With my normal friends, this wasn't common. I had yet to get a pep talk from Adrian or Willow that didn't involve me being in the wrong. It felt so good to be justified.

When I got to the whole "ex-boyfriend murdered brother" Armand had tensed, then relaxed. "That explains an awful lot. Wish I could say I'm saddened by Nicholas' death, but you know me, I'm no liar."

It was decided that I could stay with them for a few days (or weeks, months, years) until I figured what I wanted to do. I knew at an instinctive level that avoiding Oliver for the rest of my life was fruitless and childish (wish Willow could hear me think that), but if he had taken a years' worth of space, then so could I. Right Willow, pull-and-tug?

On Monday I went to work like nothing had happened. Adrian had sent me a note stating I still had to help pay rent until I decided what I wanted to do, but that was it. There was no post from Oliver. Kathryn had seemed in a much better mood than she had on Friday, which resulted into an easy day for me. Tuesday was a repeat of Monday, except that Puddlemere was playing the Tornados for one of two British spots in the Cup. They won, narrowly. Corey caught the snitch after five gruelling hours, and still Puddlemere managed to get only ten points over the Tornados.

On Wednesday I had to go visit dad. William insisted. Of course, Armand, little treacherous slug, had sent them an owl explaining what we had found about Nicholas. William had apparated at once and demanded a full story. He then paced across Armand's flat, deliberating in silence, for a good two hours before concluding I had to go and talk to dad, tell him how his favorite son had died.

If I never saw St. Mungo's again it would be too soon, I thought s I walked up the four floors towards dad's new ward. The hallways weren't as packed here as in other parts of the building, as this ward was reserved for forensics and other non-desirables. I knocked when I reached room 4589 and walked in after I heard a small "Enter."

Father looked much better than he had when he first suffered the stroke. His mouth was still lopsided and he tended to lean too much towards the right, but his face was regaining some color and he could now use his left hand instead of his right for most tasks. The healers believed that with a few more months of physical rehabilitation and language-pathology he'd be able to regain most of his previous functionality. William was appealing the Ministry to transfer him to a Seniors Residence with proper precautions on humane basis, but I wasn't holding my breath waiting for a yes.

Older or not, my father had been a Death Eater, and the wizarding world wasn't going to forgive that easily.

"'lizabeth," father straightened up against the pillows someone had propped up on his back. He had a book open on his lap, the letters a couple sizes bigger than he would've read them before. I pulled a chair closer, but still a good two feet away and sat down. "Nice to see you," father said, speaking lower and gesticulating strongly. I could see half of his teeth whenever he spoke.

"I have something to tell you," I hurried to say. I wasn't comfortable here, pretending to feel pathos or pity for a man who didn't deserve any. Perhaps I wasn't as good a liar as I thought. "It's about Nicholas, and how he died." My father blinked, and poured out the whole story. All of Oliver's confession, in its purest form yet, came out of my mouth. I didn't leave a single detail out, not how he had thought Nicholas was threatening me, or even that he had realized he still loved me. Willow had gotten portions of it, Armand and Sam a little bit more, but it wasn't' until I told every niche and small secret to my half-paralyzed father that I felt like a large weight had been lifted from my chest and I could breathe again.

When I was done, I leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of unobstructed air running through my system. I hadn't realized just how much it had hurt to keep it all bottled in. Father blinked some more and I wondered if maybe I had used too many big words, or maybe I should call a healer. Are you supposed to tell a fragile person things like these? But I had underestimated his resilience. When he spoke, I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. "What are you going to do?"

"Do?"

He nodded, slow and controlled. "About Wood. He loves you."

I blinked.

"Do you love him?"

I blinked again, opened my mouth and closed it again. "Aren't you supposed to be enraged that he killed your favorite son?"

"Nicholas… died for what he believed in. I'm not upset," he said, "It's my living children than concern me now. And their happiness."

Our happiness? I stood up and pushed the chair away so I could have space to pace. "Since when do you care about our _happiness_? You never gave a damn if any decision we made, or you made for us, made us happy. It was always about the honor of the family, the purity of the blood. Who cared if I wanted to choose my own husband, or if Armand didn't like girls? You never cared."

I stopped to glare at him, my heart beating hard against my chest. I had more to throw at him, more to yell and scream, but the sight of tears pooling around his cold blue eyes stopped me. We stared at each other for a long, tense silence. "And it is my biggest… regret." He motioned for me to get closer. I doubted what if this was another rouse, another lie? His eyes looked pleading and I walked closer. His good hand lifted a couple of inches and touched mine. "Just be happy… do what you want, as long as you're happy. Forgive him if that'll do it."

"The end justifies the means?"  
He shook his head. "Just be happy."

Thursday was spent thinking over what I had told my father, and what he had said to me. _Just be happy_. It sounded so ruddy simple, but I don't think I've ever tried something so hard, not even the Patronus charm. I went around my day like an Inferi, doing my tasks without my head being in them.

 _Forgive him if that'll do it._

Forgive him for what, for killing my scumbag of a brother, or for wanting time to figure out his own heart? I sat down, cradling my head on my arms and resting them on my desk. Forgiving wasn't hard, forgetting was. If we could've tried when I first moved in things would be so much simpler… I would've never dated Ethan, and he would've never slept with my _boss_.

But maybe it wouldn't have worked, a part of my brain insisted. We weren't ready when we were seventeen, and maybe we hadn't been ready last year. It wasn't to say we were ready now, not with so much left unsaid. And with Oliver and me, it was all or nothing, and maybe this was our last chance.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26 – Confessed Part II

Friday they played the Magpies. If they won, they would classify into the EuroCup. Adrian had sent me tickets, but the match started before I finished work. And a part of me didn't think I could face them quite now, not when I hadn't been there during the last two games. I was checking the radio like an obsessed teenager during work, but an hour in and neither team had scored a goal. The snitch was nowhere to be seen. A five o'clock I could still make it, but I couldn't bring myself to apparate to the magpies stadium.

I went for a walk through Diagon Alley instead. Gwen was at the match, she had told me as much. Armand and Sam wouldn't be home since they were visiting Sam's family that weekend. I didn't feel like being scrutinized by April or Willow – and I didn't have to courage to face my father again and tell him that maybe we could work on forgiveness. Retail therapy wasn't working either. I spent the most frustrating three hours of my shopping-life glancing lifelessly at robes and shoes. Not even Flourish and Blotts was comforting.

The sun was coming down and most shops were preparing to close. I didn't know how the match was going, whether it had finished or was still on, when I stumbled upon a bright colored store. I looked up and closed my eyes; I rubbed them with the back of my hands and looked up again, this time with a grin. I pushed the door open, for the first item relishing in the chiming of the bell. The place was still packed despite the late hour. There was a group of Hogwarts-looking witches giggling over a stall of pink products, and a few boys of similar age eyeing what looked like those Skiving Snackboxes Gwen had told me about. If only those things had been available while _I_ was at Hogwarts…

"I'm sorry miss, the store is closing, so only the customers who are already inside can still buy," someone said behind me. I turned around to tell them I wasn't interested in buying but held my tongue. George Weasley looked very much like he had while at Hogwarts, a little taller and bulkier, and without an ear.

"What happened to you?" I pointed towards his ear. His brown eyes tried to follow my finger before he touched the hole on the side of his face and laughed.

"Long story, full of heroics, don't want to tell it in front of the children," he motioned with his hand at the group of giggling girls, "may break a few hearts, you see."

I laughed for the first time I what seemed like ages. Weasley grinned. "Now that you are here, may I interest you in some patented daydreams? I guarantee, you'll be able to drool over imaginary Oliver's bare chest without anyone noticing. I hear you work at an office, you must be in need of these," he grabbed a pile of small boxes and threw them on my arms. Ki dropped one, but grabbed another to read the back label. But Weasley had already grabbed several more products and was stuffing them on top of each other. "Guaranteed ten-second pimple banisher, but you work at Witch Weekly; you probably do bloody facials at lunch."

"How about this one? It's flying off the shelves," he grabbed a tiny fluorescent pink bottle with a golden cup and pushed it into my hand. My arms were so full of products I barely kept this one from shattering against the floor. "It's called Liquid Courage, or how to own up to your feelings and save the poor bloke the agony," he stopped moving and stared at me. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to heave the bottle at him or simply allow the stone in my kidneys to kill me softly "We have one for blokes too, we call it Kiss the girl but we're producing a new batch. It amazes me how few people have the courage for this sort of thing."

I placed the bulk of the stuff on a shelf, not bothering if it fell on the floor and examined the bottle. "This is impressive magic," I lifted the glass vial to the light to see the liquid inside. "What's in this potion?"

"Just water and a spoonful of sugar, you know, to sweeten it."

I snorted. "This has been flying off the shelves?"

Weasley shrugged and looked behind his shoulder. The group of giggling girls was gone and the Hogwarts kids were paying. The store was almost empty. "You'd be surprised, people think they need to be ruddy Harry Potter just to ask a girl to go on a Hogsmade date," he shook his head sadly. "If it gives them the courage to do it, what's wrong with a little misdirection?"

"You sure the sorting hat never considered Slytherin?"

Weasley grinned and slipped his arm around mine. He began walking towards the back of the store. I was still holding onto the potion. "Considered it yes, but I like to think we are doing a service to humanity really. And good business got a family to feed and all that. Not literally," he added after I had raised an eyebrow. We had reached the end of the room; he pushed aside a bright purple curtain and held it open for me to walk through. This part of the building wasn't as eye-damaging as the entrance was. It was only a large storage room. "I'd ask you if you want a cup of tea, but I can't brew a proper one to save my life," he waved his wand so a few boxes flew down and sat down on one of them. I followed suit.

"I gather Oliver's been here recently?" I asked after a moment of silence. Weasley was still looking at me like I was an interesting pet project and it was unnerving me. He crossed one leg over the other and nodded, but didn't elaborate. "What did he say?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Patient-professional confidentiality, I'm sure you understand-" I opened my mouth to argue but he held a hand up. "What I can tell you is that the poor bloke is doing about as well as when we lost to Hufflepuff on his last year. You remember that, don't you? Tried to drown under the shower? Angelina and Alicia had to stupefy him so they could drag him out of it actually."

I had the suspicion that George Weasley wasn't trying to make me feel any better. I leaned in over my knees, "How much do you know?"

"Oliver doesn't have many friends – there's Pucey but he is a ruddy Slytherin and if he had to choose sides, he'd choose yours. And most of his teammates probably wouldn't understand. They didn't know him at Hogwarts, did they? They weren't there when you two broke each other's heart the first time. Blimey, and I thought Williams had been a piece of work."  
"Oliver's not known for having good sense when it comes to girls," I said with a shrug.

Weasley chuckled. "At least you don't fool yourself, I respect that," he uncrossed his legs and leaned backwards, almost falling. I stifled a chuckled as he regained his balance. "Let's be serious now, why are you here?"

"Needed something to trick my brother with?" I tried, but even my lie felt feeble.

"Try again."

"If I tell you I really have no clue-"

"You'd be telling the truth," he finished and I smiled. "So let's get to the bottom of this, what's really got your knickers in a twist, the whole brother-killing thing, the lets-be-friends-"

"You really _do_ know a lot don't you?"

He flashed me a grin I was certain was a winning with the ladies. "Because from my vantage point, you've got the bloke that I believe you've been pinning for since Hogwarts-"

"What makes you think that?" my voice raised an octave. Blimey, did everyone in Britain believe I've done nothing but fancy the pants off of Oliver Wood for the past five years? What about a war-torn country, once-in-a-lifetime-international-job-opportunity, accepting refugees from said war-torn blood country while the once in a lifetime opportunity flaked? "I've been busy."

He snorted. "Sweetie pie, if you didn't fancy him, you wouldn't be here seeking counsel. This," he moved one finger in a circle, "only reinforces my belief that your ego is just getting in the way. The Quaffle is on your side of the pitch now, why can't you be happy and run with it? How much longer are you going to drag this game for, while both of you are twisting and turning at night? Honestly, it's a ruddy miracle Oliver's been playing like he has. Then again he probably prefers Quidditch to a relationship any day but-"

I spaced his rant, thinking. Who would've thought George Weasley would speak words of wisdom? I had what I've been wanting for months, didn't I? "I mean, he didn't let the Magpies score a single ruddy goal tonight, actually, maybe you _should_ drag this on until they have the EuroCup in-"

"Wait," I stood up. "The match's over?"

George laughed, slapping the top of his thighs. "It finished about two hours ago. Puddlemere massacred the magpies, 270-0."

"Oh," well then, my dallying around Diagon Alley not listening to the radio seemed to have been effective. If Puddlemere had trashed the Magpies by 270 points (and officially qualified to the EuroCup), it meant that the party happening inside my flat was bound to be epic. "How do you feel about crashing a party?"

He grinned and jumped to his feet, patting his robes down. "Wouldn't want to miss the spectacle, would we? Verity and Ron can close the place," he offered me his arm and I took it with a laugh, making sure I grabbed a hold of his courage potion. "You can keep that one free of charge, love, as long as I get a good look at Puddlemere's beater."

"You do know she's sort of taken, don't you?"

"A man can still look at a good pair of legs, can't he?" we laughed and apparated outside my apartment. The wards Adrian had put up during the war prohibited anyone from apparating in front of it unless accompanied by one of the flat's inhabitants. It seemed like my little stay at Armand's had removed that privilege. Four flights of stairs it was. "You don't mind if I bring a plus one, do you?" George said, sounding out of breath. I was trekking a few steps above him, my heart fluttering against my chest.

"Technically I don't live there anymore, or so the wards suggest," I placed a hand to my waist, trying to stifle a coming stitch and slowed down. The last thing I needed was to throw my heart into overload when it was already bursting. "But be my guest."

I heard him cast a patronus, but it was too fast for me to see the animal. We reached the fourth floor and leaned against the opposite wall, trying to catch my breath. George caught up to me soon enough and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Bring out your inner Gryffindor now."  
I crooked an eyebrow and removed the small pink vial from the inside of my robe's pocket. "You sure this works?"

"It does if you believe in it," he winked and squeezed my shoulder. I popped the lip open and swallowed the contents in one sip, pushing the empty bottle back inside my robe. My hands were shaking, but I took a deep breath and reclaimed George's arm to lead him to our door. "Now where is this bash you were telling me about?

"George-"

"You're welcome babe, just don't screw it up," I rolled my eyes and began looking inside my handbag for my keys before remembering I didn't have them; I had left them at Armand's so I couldn't be tempted into doing exactly what I was planning on doing. Bugger. George shook his head and was about to knock when the door slung open. Adrian was standing, wearing a clean blue shirt and a constipated look.

"Took you long enough," he spat, leaning in and taking up most of the doorway so I couldn't as much as peak inside. I could hear music and troll-like laughter and figured Owen was probably already half-drunk. "If it had impacted his performance-"

"But it didn't!" I chirped in, he ignored me.

"-I would've been forced to murder you. Why do you have a Weasley on your arm?" his eyes flickered over to George, who was standing looking as candid as a fresh cucumber.

"Didn't she tell you? We're getting married, now scoot over, I smell Firewhiskey," I chuckled as George pushed past Adrian who was too bewildered to retort. I offered him a shrug and he rolled his eyes.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he whispered into my ear as he walked out of the flat. I had one foot in, one out.

"Where are you going?" he shrugged and didn't reply. Adrian waved at me before disappearing down the stairs. I shook my head to clear it of his odd behavior and turned to face my flat. My eyes landed on Oliver at once. He was near the kitchen, greeting George with a large smile. There were several empty pints of butterbeer strewn by him. His eyes were sparkling, whether with drunkenness or sheer happiness, I couldn't tell, but he had never looked so handsome.

Maybe shirtless.

I had to fight the urge to run up to him, grab him by the chin and push his lips on mine and snog him until the world turned backwards.

I felt my entire body recoil. Why, oh why Merlin did I come? I still had a foot out, maybe nobody else had noticed me, maybe I could go back to Armand's and brew a proper Felix Felicis instead of relying on a Weasley concoction made of sugary water- "Why are you taking so long?"

Gwen's voice made me jump and hit my elbow against the door. I cursed and pulled it towards me to nurse it. At least my belly wasn't the only thing in my body burning right now. Gwen rolled her eyes, ignoring my pout and pulled me in by the collar, closing the door behind her. The noise must've been louder than the music, for Owen stopped laughing and I could feel everyone staring. Gwen walked away from me to sit next to Evie who was waving feverishly. "Elizabeth!" Owen shouted before springing up to his feet and running towards me.

My eyes widened and I tried to back off, but I hit the wall, causing a new shot of paint to course through me before being engulfed into the biggest most asphyxiating bear-hugs ever witnessed by human kind. Owen lifted me off my feet and practically threw me over his shoulder, so all I could breathe was his hair. He used a nice shampoo, it smelled like kiwi. "Owen!"

He put me down with a raucous laugh and messed up my hair for good measure. I had to steady myself using his arms. "Good luck," he whispered before scurrying off back to Evie who winked at me. Sweet Salazar, did everyone in the team know? Gwen threw me a pillow and a 'hurry-up' look. I even caught Wilda grinning, even though I've never spoken much to her. She was introducing herself to George and pulling him away from Oliver. I had no idea where either Corey or Amy was, but I was at least grateful for the latest absence. I took a deep breath and walked towards Oliver.

He had his back to me and his nose buried in a new pint. I took a deep breath and touched his shoulder; he tensed. I closed my eyes and stepped around him so he had to see me. His eyes were fixed on a point ahead and he was busy chugging the rest of his butterbeer. I gave him a smile and waited for him to run out of liquid excused. "Good game. Not a single shot got past you." He placed the empty glass on the countertop and nodded. I sighed, grabbing his hand and pulling. "Can we talk?"

"Now you want to talk?" his speech sounded a bit slurred; or maybe I just told myself that so I could ignore the bitterness in it. With a sigh, I tightened my grip on his hand and began pulling him towards his room. I was surprised when he didn't resist and glad that no one thought of doing cat-calls. It was comforting to know our friends were mature enough.

I pushed the door open and walked in, letting go of his hand. The room was clad in darkness, except for the half-moon shining outside. I lit a few candles with my wand as Oliver took a seat on his bed. Each step that I took made me want to reconsider this, or maybe swallow three litres of the courage potion. When the room was illuminated, I leaned against Oliver's desk. He had arranged his furniture similar to me: the bed against the left wall, a wardrobe against the right and a desk opposite the door, facing the big window.

I rested my weight against my fisted hands, taking a moment to breathe. Now that I was here, locked in a room with him, I was certain my resolve would vanish. I closed my eyes and tightened my fists until I felt the pain of my nails about to break skin.

You can do this, Elizabeth. All you have to do is tell him you fancy him too; then you can snog him. Snogging him is easy, you've done it before. It's the whole being honest, take a leap, use up your last chance, and risk getting a broken heart piece that's a little hard. Maybe I should've done like he did and drink half a gallon worth of alcohol-

"Sarah?"

His voice sent shivers down my spine even though he wasn't anywhere close to me. My legs felt unbalanced in my stilettos, but I turned around, still leaning against the edge of the desk for support and looked at him. My heart caught in my throat. Under the dim light, Oliver's eyes glinted like ambers; the contours of his cheeks were more defined. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he was resting his forearms over his knees, his back was hunched over. I wanted to reach over to him, push him down and-

"I didn't react very well the other day."

"You did better than I expected you to, actually," I blinked. He run a hand through his hair and then down his face, turning it to the side so I could see the outline of his nose. "I was expecting you to curse me and yell and hit me and-"

"I wouldn't do that."

He looked up, and I dug my nails a little further inside my palm. "You had every right."

"Oliver, he would've killed you," it was times like this that I hated myself for never rehearsing, for never preparing for just winging it. Except this time, I was being a lot more ambitious than in the past. "And if I had to choose between Nicholas or you, I wouldn't have changed a thing."

Oliver looked towards me with a frown. "You would have me kill him?"

I shook my head. "I would have you live. Because," I took an unconscious step forward and digging my heel into a hole in the ground and stumbled. Oliver was on his feet before I could even try to regain my balance. He put his arms around my waist, steading me against his chest. I swallowed a knot of saliva and looked up, feeling more disarmed with every centimeter of his face I took in. "Because I rather have you in my life."

He helped me stand up on my own and let go of me. I tried not to feel how cold the parts of skin he had touched felt. "Sarah, he was your brother."

"In theory," I said shaking my head. "Armand and William and Adrian are my brothers, maybe we can even throw Francis in the mix… and Corey is growing on me. But Nicholas… well, he lost that privilege a long time ago." I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for the words to sink in. Oliver hadn't moved so his chest brushed against mine every time either one of us took a breath. It was madly distracting. I had to hold my hand behind my back to keep them from yanking on the collar of his shirt and pulling him down. It wouldn't do, not yet. So I had to content myself with knowing I was trapped between his hard body and the unforgiving edge of his desk..

"I see," his voice took me out of my revelry in which we both had significantly fewer clothing items and back to the reality where a lot of things had yet to be taken care off. Damn, life is so much easier in my daydreams. "I guess that, that does take a load off of me," he attempted a small grin but ended up looking like had a toothache. "And I'm glad you're here, since I wanted to say that you don't have to move out if this is too weird for you, I was thinking of getting me own place and-"

I lost it.

I grabbed his collar and pulled him down, thanking the fact that my heels brought my lips closer to his without much ado. My hand crept to the back of his neck and used that as leverage to keep him from pulling away. When his lips crashed against mine, it was as if every cell in my body was screaming a big loud 'thank you!' I closed my eyes and enjoyed it, even if his hands were still hovering doubtfully over my body and he hadn't responded yet. The feel of his lips on mine once again was all I needed.

That is, until he gathered his wits.

Both hands landed on my waist, pressing me against him. I gasped when his lips began moving against mine, his tongue making me shiver as he brushed it over my lips. I opened them to let him in, feeling my body melting against him. One of my hands dropped to his low back, playing with the hem of his shirt. He drew in a quick breath when my fingers brushed against warm skin, prompting him to grip my hips tighter and push me back so I hit the desk.

It tumbled and something fell. We both jumped, startled. My hands were tightly wrapped in his short hair and in his shirt, and I didn't want to let go. Oliver's face moved away from mine, far enough for him to rest his forehead against mine, the tips of our noses touching. I could feel his warm breath on my face as we both fought to regain control; every time it tickled over my lips it sent teasing shivers down every fibre. "I choose you," I leaned my head to the side to whisper in his ear, hooking my elbow around his neck. "I want you, Oliver."

"Sarah," his voice was hoarse. I pulled back and placed a finger on his lip, smiling at him before replacing my finger with my lips. He groaned against my mouth as his hands cupped me by the waist, his fingers trailing across my stomach before settling for my low back. He lifted me up. I yelped in surprised, but he chuckled and sat me on the desk, parting my legs to nestle himself closer. I smiled against his renewed kiss; sitting on the desk was a whole lot better than bumping against it.

One of my hands trailed up and down his spine, my nails curling against his skin when his lips left mine and began attacking the crook of my neck. His mouth moved from my ear to my jaw, and I had to bite my lips to keep me from crying .I crossed my legs at the ankle, pulling him closer. My breathing increased as I became aware of how much he wanted me; his calloused fingers lifting the back edge of my shirt.

"Do you have any idea," he grunted against my neck. His hands were moving beneath my shirt making my back arch towards him, "what it was like to watch you go to work dressed like my dream librarian? Made me hate Flint's guts all over again."

I giggled and licked his earlobe, relishing when his fingers pressed down against my skin. "If I had known you had it in for Madam Pince I wouldn't have gotten in between."

Oliver chuckled, pulling away from me. My heart was pounding in my chest, and it was the only sound I could hear. One of his hands came out from beneath my shirt to cup my cheek. My stomach tightened at the look on his face. His eyes were narrowed, and I could've sworn they had grown darker; maybe it was the dim lightning. His lips were still parted and both of our breathing was haggard. I wanted to use my legs to push him even closer and finish what we both wanted, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. "Does this mean?"

I nodded, licking my lips. I untangled one hand from his hair and lowered towards his shoulder, trying to touch as much of him as possible. "I guess moving out isn't going to be the problem. Maybe we should look into tearing a certain wall down."

A wicked grin crossed his face. "That can be arranged. But for now…" his eyes flickered back to mine and my stomach contracted. He pulled my face closer to him, teasing me by brushing his lips against mine. I tightened my legs, pushing his hips forward and was satisfied when a moan escaped his lips. I smiled against his mouth, rearranging my legs so he brushed against me. "Sarah…"

"Mmm?"

His hand trailed up and down my spine, making my head spin. If we never saw our way out of this bedroom it would be too son…

I trailed a hand down his shoulders, over his chest and down to the edge of his trousers, teasing him by brushing a finger across the tender patch of skin. His mouth crashed against mine, teeth bumping against teeth in an effort not just to kiss me, but to devour me. I pulled in his shirt, sneaking a hand across his exposed stomach, feeling the taut skin beneath. "Bed?"

"This is better."

I craned my neck back as he began leaving kisses from my earlobe down to my collarbone, playing with the limits my shirt afforded when a deafening bang made us both jump. One look at his face told me he was thinking along the same lines as I was: the idiots outside thought the lack of screaming meant we were silently murdering each other and had busted into the room to stop the bloodshed, in which case I would have to personally fillet each and every one of them.

Except that _our_ door wasn't being banged on.

"Parchment thin walls," I whispered, trying to stop my head from spinning. Oliver had already removed both of his hands from me and looking up, alert, his face scrunched up as he tried to hear. I placed my hands on my quads to steady my breathing so I too could hear. There was shouting coming from the living room, shrill shrieks and the sounds of furniture being tumbled over. Then someone screamed, "Corey!"

"Adrian!"

Oliver was out of the door before I had managed to jump of the desk. I tried to pull my dress down as I rushed out of the bedroom, almost collapsing against Oliver's back when I reached the end of the corridor. I gaped.

Gwen was pulling on Adrian's robes, trying to heave him away from Corey who was on the floor in fetal position, his arms crossed over his head to protect it from Adrian's punches. "Adrian stop!" she shouted, "Put me down!" Owen had grabbed her by the waist and dragged her backwards. Adrian's swings were furious enough she would've gotten hit. "Adrian leave him alone!"

Adrian stopped punching for a second, long enough for Oliver to rush down and try to push him away from the beaten seeker. "This piece of shit deserves a lot more from where this came from!" Adrian's voice sounded feral; his eyes were wild and crazy, and he punched Oliver in the jaw when he tried to get him off of Corey. "He was cheating on you!"

Everyone gasped, except Gwen who kept kicking against Owen's hold. Corey wouldn't cheat; he was the sweetest thing since apple pie. "I caught him – he was snogging that bloke!" I followed Adrian's finger towards the door. There was a young-looking man standing there, barely out of Hogwarts age. My eyes flickered back to Corey, who was sobbing on the ground, his arms covering his face, and then back to Adrian's enraged expression and Gwen's even madder one.

I exchanged glances with Oliver, who seemed just as baffled as I was.

Gwen stopped fighting against Owen. Her eyes were focused on Adrian, not her apparently gay-cheating boyfriend, but on the bloke who was trying to defend her honour by resorting to being a Neanderthal. "I know."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 - Tangled

"I know," Gwen's voice sounded extremely calm. She elbowed Owen and squeezed out of his grip. Like everyone else, the large beater was too stunned to think or act in due time. "I know, now could you please stop mauling him?"

Adrian stared, one fist halfway up in the air, the other one still trying to pry Corey's hands away from his face. I watched him open and close his mouth, unable to find anything to say. Thankfully Oliver's brain wasn't as addled as everyone else's and he brought Adrian's hand down and safely to his side. He was working on getting him off of Corey when Adrian spoke. "What?"

Gwen rolled her eyes and kneeled down to touch Corey's shoulder. Oliver heaved an unresponsive Adrian off the floor and helped him stand up. My gaze flickered back to the bloke by the door; he was as pale as a ghost and had a look of pure horror on his face. Could it be true? Had Corey been cheating on Gwen, with a bloke, all this time? And did she know?

Gwen pried Corey's arms away from his face, and gently touched his cheek. There was an almost motherly smile on her face. "Go wash up, there should be some dittany in Lisa's cabinet. Don't try any healing spells, you're lousy at them," Corey's eyes were as wide as a doe. He gulped and nodded, and accepted Gwen's help to stand up. I watched him throw the stranger a pleading glance before lowering his head and marching towards the loo with the bloke following him.

Everyone else just watched Gwen as she stood back up and cleaned the front of her dress before pinning her eyes on Adrian. Oliver was still holding him, but Adrian looked like he had been hit with a jelly-leg curse and couldn't move. "Wha-what? You-you _knew_?"

Gwen nodded. "And if you think I appreciated your twisted idea of chivalry, you are mistaken."

Adrian shrugged Oliver off and walked towards her. "All this time you've been together you've known-"

"Thank he was in love with a seventh year male Hufflepuff and didn't know how to come out of the closet?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Despite the fact that Adrian was a good head taller than her, she looked mighty impressive. "Yes. He asked me for help after Witch Weekly run that article speculating about his sexual orientation."

I searched my brain until I remembered a conversation Oliver and I had with Gwen, back in October.

" _Adrian's been in a right mood since he doesn't have a date for the Halloween Bash."_

" _You know how large men's egos can be," she flipped her hair around so it cascaded around her and crossed her arms. "Git can't get over that the younger, more effeminate Puddlemere seeker has an actual girlfriend and he doesn't."_

 _Oliver and I exchanged wry glances. "Who called Corey effeminate?"_

 _Gwen grabbed the remote and switched channels. "Witch Weekly, two issues ago. They made a countdown of most eligible Quidditch bachelors and those they thought were more likely to come out of the broom closet."_

Oh. Yes, that issue. I remember not reading it simply because there was a picture of Oliver without his shirt on it, and I was still getting over the stink of 'let's just be friends.' But Corey would've read it; he was the only one of the three who kept up with his own publicity.

"You've been helping him?" Adrian's voice was laced with venom. He tried to laugh, but it came off more of a choke. "By doing what exactly, pretending to date him? What kind of bloke does that?"

"One with a lot more sensitivity than _you_ ," Gwen replied with just as much venom. I blinked. This was getting weirder by the second. "But of course, there's no way you'd understand that, being the chauvinistic pig you are."

"I was defending your honour, woman!" Adrian shouted.

Gwen's arms flew from her chest and slapped him. I gasped. This was better than those muggle soap operas. "You were showing off, trying to prove me wrong for having picked him over you, Mr. Hot Quidditch Star."

Picked Corey over Adrian? I laughed, out loud. Several pairs of eyes turned their attention from the arguing duo to stare at me. "What? This little scene implies there's history of the romantic nature between them and that's impossible because," I stumbled, trying to come up with a proper excuse, but feeling the dreaded chill that comes with realization. "Because it's absurd," I finished lamely.

Gwen rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, "You're right for once, Liz. The idea _is_ absurd," we all stared in silence as the petite blond woman walked out of the apartment, pausing by the door to tell Evie, "Go make sure Corey doesn't hex his nose off. I'm in no mood to work."

Silence fell in the room after Gwen slammed the door shut. I moved just enough to I could gape at the bloke I had called my best friend, my brother-from-another-mother, since I had memory. "Gwendolyn?" I screeched, but Adrian flipped me off, brushed against Oliver and marched to his room. I was hot on his tail, but he shut the door before I got there. I began banging on it. "Pucey open that damned door or I'll blast it open!"

"Go to hell," came the answer. I huffed and took my wand from my robes and fired a spell before Oliver could grad my wand-hand. Wand held high, I strode inside the room .Adrian was kicking at every piece of furniture his feet could reach, throwing pillows and a lamp against the floor. "I thought I told you to go to hell."

"And the train brought me here," I replied, lacing each word with as much anger as I could. How could he? Gwendolyn? Adrian and Gwen, my little Gwen. I know how Adrian is with his birds; he hasn't had a single somewhat-serious thing since he broke up with Williams: he would go out, parade them around, sleep with them and dump them faster than a reusable container. The thought my baby cousin had gone through that-"She's my cousin you scumbag," I threw him a jinx which he avoided it. He picked up his wand and blocked my next hex. "She's a kid for Salazar's sake, you depraved," another spell, "perverted," he blocked the next; "pedophile!" the third one hit him, throwing him backwards against a wardrobe.

"Sarah," Oliver chided me, but I was too busy resembling a bull to give a damn. I strode past Oliver and stood in front of Adrian, pointing my wand at his jugular.

"She's a kid, what the hell did you do?"

Adrian wiped his face with his hand and sat down, crossing his legs. "Do you think I don't bloody know that?" when he looked up, his blue eyes had tears in them. It stunned me. Never, in the years we've been friends had I seen Adrian as much as get an eyelash in his eyes. I lowered my wand. "Don't you think I don't know that she's a kid? Do you have any idea of what it's like to feel like a – a bloody pedophile," he spat the word, "when a stupid thirteen year old girl begins worming her way into your thoughts?"

I stared back, appalled. "Not like that you dork," he rolled his eyes. "Not until she hit sixteen and began charming her skirt shorter. But I was twenty-one and even then I couldn't in good conscience," he groaned and began pulling on his hair, slamming a hand against the floor. I looked over my shoulder to stare at Oliver, silently asking him if he knew.

Oliver shrugged and shook his head. Thirteen? I made the math in my head while Adrian continued to rip his hair off. When Gwen was thirteen – "We were in seventh year," I muttered. Adrian stopped destroying his hair and looked up. "You've fancied her then?"

He looked away, avoiding my eyes. "After the William's fiasco, remember what I told you?" I shook my head. He sighed. "I that the next girl that wold get the mickey out of me would have to be a Slytherin-"

"-or someone with just as much cunning," I finished, remembering. I took a seat on his bed, feeling like my legs couldn't handle that much emotion in a full day to continue supporting my weight. "And you went for Gwen?"

He threw me an annoyed look. "I didn't wake up one morning and thought to myself, hm, which girl could I fall for that would cause me the most amount of trouble? Oh I know! How about that cheeky third year Ravenclaw?" I chortled at the way he said things. "You know what it's like," he threw Oliver a pointed look and my cheeks reddened. We kept silent for a moment; Adrian probably pondering on how badly he had screwed up things and me wondering how I could have been so blind.

"That's why you started having all those petty fights with Corey, isn't it?" I said after a long time of silence. Of course, Adrian and Corey had gotten along just fine when I first moved in; it wasn't until Halloween that the problems between them started, which was when Gwen began dating him. Things were making sense now. Gwen blushing and behaving composed around him when she was younger, asking for his help for potions even though she is good at it, seeking him out to concoct a plan to get me and Oliver together…

Adrian chuckled and stretched his legs out. "I thought she was doing it to rile me up, make me jealous and force a love-confession out of me."

"Wait, she fancies you too?"

He shrugged. "But I knew Corey was hiding something. I mean, c'mon, he has more hair products than _you_ do," I wanted to slap him. "It was just a matter of time until I caught him at something – and tonight when he didn't show up to the party I just went for a walk and bang, right in the middle of muggle London. Kid's never learned any stealth, let me tell you that."

I massaged my temple, feeling an incoming headache. How ironic is it that less than half an hour ago I was about to make every Oliver-Wood-related daydream come true and now I was listening to my heartless best friend talk about my little cousin? "You need to tell me the full story because I'm not following you," I took a deep breath, "you've fancied her since she was thirteen," I tried not to choke on the last word. "Then what?"

Adrian huffed and leaned his head back. He closed his eyes and raised a hand to begin his tale. "I told you, I didn't think anything that could've landed me in Azkaban _until_ she was older. At first she just amused me, you know, the cheek, the cunning. She had some great ideas about what to do with you two, idiots," he cracked an eye open and grinned. "Glad to see that's in the process of being straightened out. Nice hickey, Lisa," I kicked him. "And then, I don't know. She was coming over our flat, we laughed behind your back, I guess I started to like her company and began biding my time until she came of age. It's not nice to have to wait." I nodded, understanding. "Your problem's different; you've just been an idiot this whole time. I didn't even know if she would see me that way or if I'd become like a brother to her. Blimey, I'm older than Francis."

"For a few months."

"Still older," he sighed and closed his eyes again. "Then came the war and we were all worried sick because she was at Hogwarts under the Carrow's… then her parents were murdered and they brought her here to hide her during the holidays, before they could find a safer place, and," his voice trailed so I couldn't catch what else he had said. In fact, I was certain I didn't want to hear anymore. There was a part of me that was having a really hard time disentangling adult-Gwen from kid-Gwen.

"It told her it was a mistake, she was _just_ seventeen and I felt like a right git. After the Battle she had turned eighteen, began her adult life and I thought maybe now's my time, but she turned me down. Few months later she's dating a kid her ruddy age, and my jealousy got the best of me," he sighed again. "I said some things, called her a child, told her Corey didn't really fancy her, said I'd prove her wrong," he massaged the side of his cheek where she had slapped him. "Blimey, I really messed things up, didn't I?"

"You think."

"Any advice, king and queen of complicated relationships?"

I opened my mouth to respond but Oliver beat me to it. He placed a hand on shoulder and spoke. "Just tell her exactly what you've told us. That you've liked her for who she is for years, and admit to being a right git."

Adrian chuckled. "Is that how he got into your pants, Lisa?"

I kicked him again. "Disgusting sod."

Oliver and I left Adrian's room to leave to wallow in his stupidity. I was still having a hard time coming to terms with my nineteen-year old cousin being involved with my twenty-four year old best friend, but it was probably because I had never had the opportunity to warm up to the idea of them as anything other than being there to tease me about Oliver. Somewhere along the road I should've matured enough to realize Gwen had blossomed into an adult all on her own; and with adulthood, came complications of the romantic nature.

"You alright?" Oliver said, placing both hands on the nape of my neck and massaging the tense muscles around it. I sighed, closed my eyes and leaned in to the touch.

"It's just weird thinking of Gwen as an adult."

"Well, she's been one for a long while now."

I sighed. "And what's more, being courted by Adrian of all blokes. I mean, he's like my ruddy brother-one of many, only non-blood one. Did you know?" I turned around so I was facing him/

He shrugged. "Suspected."

"How?"

Oliver pushed some hair away from my face and smile. "When you don't spend all your time being a self-absorbed cow, you notice things."

I blinked. "Huh. So when did you find the time to notice?" He laughed and gave me a caste kiss. I leaned my head against his shoulder and took a couple of breaths, letting everything sink in, trying to reconstruct the puzzle of the past and failing miserably. So I chose to focus on the feel of his body heat.

"What's going through that pretty head of yours?"

I tangled my head in his curls, thanking the rest of the team for having made themselves scarce. "That I can finally do this," I bit his lower lip before working my way up to a full kiss. Oliver's hands dropped from my shoulder, trailed over my arms, grasping at my waist and brushing down to my hips. I tugged him to me, so our bodies were close. It was getting hard to breathe, and harder to remain balanced when every cell in my nervous system was on fire.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere less public," he whispered against my throat, crushing my frame against his chest. I looked up and placed a small kiss on his nose before walking ahead of him towards my room, making sure to sway my hips as I did so.

He caught up with me in no time.

I tried to soundproof the room before Oliver burst in, but had just managed two spells. He locked the door behind me and grabbed me by the waist with so much force we both stumbled backwards a few steps. I laughed and cocked an eyebrow. "Imagining Madam Pince?"

He grinned and pushed some hair behind my ear. "If she had your face," he placed a kiss on my cheek, "and your body," trailed down to my jaw, "and your _outfits_ ," my neck arched back, giving him more access. "Although what you're wearing today is annoyingly conservative," he said against the skin of my collarbone. I giggled and pushed him away. He had a smirk on his face that I wanted to kiss off. Which I did.

It was as if we couldn't touch enough of each other fast enough. I glued my body to his, doing all in my power to decrease the distance between us. His mouth fought against mine in a battle full of lips and the clash of teeth, aided by increasingly shallow breathing and the urge to get years' worth of closeness in a single session.

We walked backwards, my legs feeling weaker by the moment, and tumbled over the bed. Oliver's body crashed on top of mine, supported by his forearms, and we stopped our frenzy to simply laugh. I reached forward to trace a finger over the contours of his cheek. It felt so good to laugh with him again. Oliver smiled and kissed my hand before lowering himself to kiss my nose, and then back to my jaw and the skin just above my breasts. I arched against him as one hand cupped my left breast and began playing with it over my shirt. "Oliver," I gasped, squirming beneath him.

I heard him chuckle before continuing the slow torture. His other hand trailed down the side of my body, leaving traces of fire everywhere he touched. My eyes flew open when his hand gripped the side of my bum and squeezed. My leg curled up, opening up the angle of my hips; I felt my heel dig a hole into the sheet. Oliver rearranged himself so his hips landed on top of mine. It made my stomach clench and twist when I felt him wanting me. He cupped my cheek again and took control of my lips. I tangled one hand in his hair, using the other one to urge his shirt off.

Chuckling, he lifted himself off of me long enough for me to pull his shirt off, inch by inch, relishing in the feel of his strong muscles. I threw the shirt off and took a moment to caress just above his collarbone, down his well-sculpted chest and finally yanking at his belt. He groaned as I made him rub against me. "I thought you once said you weren't easy?" his speech was husky and intermitted.

"And I recall you being a lot more gentlemanly, asking me if we were going too far too fast," I replied, releasing his belt and allowing my hands to roam over the vast expanse of his back.

Oliver lifted himself up from his forearms to his hands. I rolled my eyes at his worried expression. "You think we're going to far too fast."

"Oliver, this has been years in the making," I replied, propping myself up on my elbows and bringing our faces closer again so I could look straight into his eyes. Blimey he was serious. "I told you, I choose you."

He smiled and dropped his body back to his forearms, pulling me down with him. He brought his face nose to nose to mine and rested his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes to appreciate the feeling of his heart beating against mine. I felt him brush a few stray hairs from my face and opened my eyes to see him smiling down at me. "I just want this to work."

I lifted my neck to kiss him on the lips; just a chaste kiss. "I know. Me too."

It had to work, I reminded myself as Oliver dabbed kisses on my neck; we're using our last chance.

oOo

The next morning I tore myself away from the bed to go to St. Mungo's knowing that, with the EuroCup starting the following day, I would be hard pressed to be able to spend quality time with Oliver. It felt a bit like a repeat of seventh year, but like that time, it was only for a month.

So I decided not to sulk and just smile like an insane person while my three flatmates left for practice. Corey had his nose fixed, and I forced Adrian to apologize. He seemed to take it in stride, though, Corey. After having a solo breakfast, I apparated to St. Mungo's and asked for Gwen. She was working on the second floor and I was told to wait. So I grabbed a magazine and sat down, trying not to let my happiness overpower me.

I was here for my lil cousin ,after all.

"What do you want?" she said for greeting after I had been waiting for three hours and had read every single magazine they had in the waiting room (including the parenting ones, although those made me queasy). "I'm busy."

I looked at the clock. It was noon "Let's go, I'll buy you lunch," I grabbed her by the arm before she could protest and we trekked up towards the fifth floor. Gwen took a seat at an empty table by the corner while I bought us some salads. I placed a plate in front of her and simply stared.

Gwen picked up a fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. "You look chirpy. Oliver any good in the sack?"

"I didn't imagine you'd be this angry if you are resulting to vulgar vocabulary," I said with a roll of my eyes. I pushed my salad aside and fixed my stare on her. "Adrian's told me the basics of his side of the story. Why didn't you tell me you fancied him?"

Gwen didn't look up. "You would've laughed at me. Little Gwendolyn having a crush on big bad wolf," she rolled her eyes and played with her fork, stabbing a tomato this time. "Besides, your head's always been too full of your own problems to bother listening to someone else's."

I didn't pretend that didn't hurt, but hey, kid's got a point. I grabbed her free hand and squeezed. "And I'll be forever sorry, but you've always been my little cousin, almost like a sister. It never occurred to me that you'd grow up and start having boy problems."

She chortled. "That's one way of putting it. He called me a kid, Liz."

I let go of her hand and stood up so I could sit next to her and put my arms around her. She nuzzled her face against me. "I mean, I figured I wouldn't stand a chance until I turned of age, but it still ruddy hurt. I've liked him since I'm _twelve_."

"What happened exactly?" I asked after a moment's silence. Gwen sighed and pulled away. She tried to dab at her eyes without me noticing.

"It was the winter holidays, mum and dad had just been murdered but I didn't know yet, and Francis and Adrian picked me up from the station. We side-apparated to your flat, which they said would be safer. Then they told me what had happened, it had been the night before when mum and dad," she hiccupped and drank some water. "Francis and the lot were trying to figure things out, so I stayed with Adrian in the flat for the night. For my protection," her voice turned bitter. "Then Flint showed up, he was a _mess_. Willow and Ryan had just left, so Adrian brought out the firewhiskey…"

Oh yes, firewhiskey, the cure for every heartache. "And we began drinking. Flint passed out, and I was getting sleepy. Adrian said I could sleep in your room, but I had never drunk that much and," her hands were balled into tight fists and her face was lowered. I felt my stomach lurch forward as bile rose. He wouldn't- "He walked me to your room and I- I guess I tried to kiss him," she said with a shrug, "but he just held me and didn't respond. So I got angry at him and began hitting him and he just ruddy took it all."

Okay, well, at least I wouldn't have to castrate him. "And I told him I liked him, and he said I was too young that it wasn't right. But I was seventeen; I was of age I mean if he fancied me back, he could've kissed me back, right?"

"Gwen," I brushed some hair from her cheek. I had never seen her act so vulnerable, her voice cracking with every word. "He was trying his hand at chivalry; he wouldn't have kissed you while you were drunk."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I know that. But he didn't have to completely ignore what I said the next morning. I didn't hear for him from _months_ , and when you come back I think that maybe now that I'm out of Hogwarts he'll stop seeing me as a child, but he said nothing and I wondered if maybe he didn't remember. So I asked him, and he was a right jerk about it, saying I was overreacting. When I began seeing Corey he came to me and told me I was being stupid, that I deserved a bloke that truly fancied me," she huffed and pushed her fringe away from her face. "I wasn't seeing Corey _just_ to spite him because I had convinced myself he didn't want me. I was trying to help a friend."

I had no idea what to say, so I asked, "Why did Corey need helping in the first place?"

She threw me an annoyed look. "His family hasn't gotten over the fact that he's magic, he didn't think he would be able to tell them he wasn't into girls either. And besides, Graham had decided to go back to Hogwarts for an eight year. That stupid Witch Weekly article really messed him up."

"So all this time, you've still been pinning over Adrian?"

She avoided my eyes again and crossed her arms. "How stupid does that make me sound?"

"Not that stupid," I shrugged, "I'm not one to judge."

I was happy when a small smile appeared on her lips. "True, but at least Oliver doesn't treat you like you are a stupid kid that needs someone to guide them"."  
"That wasn't what I meant," we both jump. I looked at Adrian, startled. His hair was windswept and he was wearing mud-splattered Puddlemere robes. He was also holding a large bouquet of sunflowers. "You got to see it from my side too. Do you know what it's like to meet the girl of your dreams, and have to wait patiently while she grows up, knowing she may fall for another bloke?"

Gwen looked at him unabashed. "And do you know what it's like not knowing if the bloke you like will ever see you as anything but his friend's little cousin?"

My eyes darted from one to another while they held their staring contest. Adrian spoke first. "And Lisa's wrong, I would've kissed you drunk, but I didn't want our first kiss to be that convoluted."

Gwen scoffed and turned around, so he was left facing her back. I could see that her cheeks were reddened and I grinned, squeezing her shoulder as I stood up to leave. She threw me an angry glare and I shrugged my shoulders to let her know I had no hand in this. Adrian threw me a more grateful smile as he took a seat next to her, practically shoving the sunflowers under her nose.

"How did he know sunflowers are her favorite flowers?" I asked Oliver, who had been standing by the entrance of the cafeteria. Several people were staring at the Puddlemere Player making an ass of himself trying to get the young healer to speak to him. Currently, Adrian seemed to be threatening to on down on his knees. It was all very amusing; I could see now why Gwen enjoyed playing with my relationships.

"If he's being honest, and for the first time I think he just might, he's been keeping tabs on her for years," Oliver replied, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. I smiled and looked up to admire how gorgeous he looked after training. "I just hope for his sake she forgives him before the half hour Maud gives us for lunch is over."

I laughed and propped myself up on my tiptoes so I could grab his lips into a kiss. "Let's give them some privacy then, an entire cafeteria of ogling people ought to be enough of an audience. Besides," I said lowering my mouth to bite at the side of his neck, "I can think of better ways to spend your half hour break."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 – Undefeated

The EuroCup was in full bloom and Puddlemere was on a winning streak. They defeated Quiberon Quafflepunchers from France and the Polish Grodzisk Goblins, landing them in a very beneficial spot for the quarter finals against the Bulgarian Vratsa Vultures. Adrian reckoned they were probably their hardest contenders since they still had Viktor Krum as their seeker.

"The best we can hope for would be a repeat of the last World Cup when Ireland beat Bulgaria," Adrian said the night before their game. He was pacing up and down the hall, biting his nails and pulling at his hair. Corey was staring at the wall, his eyes covered in a grey mist. Oliver and I were sharing the larger sofa and he was absentmindedly playing with my hair. "Which would be awesome, because the Irish chasers are amongst the best in the world…"

"Adrian sit down," I said looking over Oliver's shoulder. I was as nervous as everyone else in this room, and perhaps a tad annoyed that Gwen had to work the night shift again and couldn't come beat her new boyfriend over the head and tell him to stop fretting. It was still weird, thinking of those two as a _couple_. Francis didn't know yet, we had all agreed it was probably better to let him know after the EuroCup was over so Puddlemere wouldn't lose a chaser. "Walking up and down the room isn't going to help you beat Bulgaria."

"It helps calm the nerves," he replied without stopping.

"Maybe we should just get some rest," Corey said, speaking up for the first time since I got home from work four hours ago. "But I don't think I could sleep even if I tried."

"I think I have some dreamless draught somewhere," I offered him a smile. I still felt awful that Corey had gotten beaten by a jealous Adrian, but they seemed to have talked things out. Corey even brought his boyfriend over the other day after they defeated France.

Oliver shook his head. "No, those things slow your reflexes the morning after. The strongest thing you can have is a chamomile tea." I snorted and stood up. "Where are you going?"

"To make you all that tea, you are driving me nutty with all the tension," I replied as I placed a kettle on the stove and flicked my wand to begin boiling water. No one bothered to say anything, but Adrian's constant pacing really _was_ driving me crazy. I began searching through the Corey's endless supply of tea for the right one when a piece of parchment fell on my head. Curious, I grabbed it and turned it over. It was addressed to Mr. Oliver P. Wood from the Scottish National Team. I stared at the letter in my hand. Why were they still contacting him? Oliver had rejected them.

The water boiled and I placed the letter on the countertop while I served the tea. The three were still in their old positions. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the letter and levitated the cups to deliver them to their right recipients. Only Corey managed a small smile of appreciation; Adrian almost dumped the boiling tea on me.

I took my seat next to Oliver and fingered the letter, wondering whether I should bring it up or not. After all, stuffing letters in the tea cabinet was rather suspicious. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, eyeing me over his tea cup. I pouted, hating how predictable I was becoming and showed him the letter. His eyes widened and he choked, dumping hot tea all over himself. "Bugger," he placed the cup on the coffee table, spilling tea, and began airing his shirt. Behind me, I heard Adrian snigger.

I threw him an angry look which only made him laugh louder. Tosser.

"Here," I waved my wand and apparated a napkin. Oliver took it and began dabbing his shirt with it. "If you want, I'm not against throwing a bucket of water on you."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh please, take it to a ruddy motel; some of us are having a hard enough time not throwing up as it is."

I flicked Adrian off again.

He laughed and waved us goodbye, saying he had better things to do than pace around the living room, which I highly doubted. He would go pace in his own room. Corey too thanked me for the tea and went to his room to try and catch some sleep. That left Oliver and I sitting in awkward silence. He had finished drinking his tea and was staring at the bottom of his cup as if there was something in there that could tell him the result of tomorrow's game.

"Oliver," I reached a hand to place it on his shoulder and squeezed. "Why was that letter hidden in the cupboards?"

I felt the muscles beneath my hand tense. Oliver visible swallowed before answering. "Scotland is still insisting."

My eyes narrowed. "I thought you said you couldn't imagine planning strategies but not playing? I know you're a bit worried about life once you can no longer catch a Quaffle, but I'm sure you'll get a lot of opportunities then."

He turned around to face me. It made me feel better to see that he was smiling. "I know, but they seem to believe their offer is irrefutable. My dad," he shook his head and closed his mouth. I opened mine to ask him what about his father but he shut me up with kiss. I responded at once, hooking my arm around his neck and pulling him down, but he pushed away. I pouted. "I have a big game tomorrow, Sarah," he said for way of an apology, "I should probably be going to sleep as well. Thanks for the tea," he placed a kiss on my forehead and stood up. I watched his beautiful arse as he walked towards his bedroom before sinking further against the sofa.

"Stupid Quidditch," I muttered to no one in particular.

The next morning everyone was gone before I could wish them good luck. It was rather upsetting that I hadn't been able to take the day off work to go watch the match, but their last one against France had lasted thirteen hours and Kathryn had almost chopped my head off for missing two days in a row. So it was with a dampened spirit that I walked to work, trying to cheer myself with the thought that my interview with Miranda Winterstorm was next Friday.

I arrived the office and greeted all the people I knew, as usual. Alice was already sitting on her desk. She threw me a sneer that would've made any Slytherin proud. I ignored her and dumped my bag on my desk and walked over to my mail to see what was in store for me when Kathryn's office door opened. "Elizabeth, a word please."

I shrugged, put my mail back in place and walked inside Kathryn's office. It must be nice to have your own office, I thought, eyeing the place. Kathryn had instilled her personality in every inch of the space, from the bright orange potted plants to the moving pictures of her all-time favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck. "Good morning, Kathryn."

She didn't return the greeting. Kathryn was standing looking at the window and apparently refusing to acknowledge my presence. That was odd. "Anything I can do for you?"  
"Actually," she said turning around in slow motion. She yanked the latest Witch Weekly issue from her desk and propped it open before throwing it to me. "Maybe you could explain that?"

I caught the magazine, putting a finger on the pages she had opened before to see better. There was a large picture of Adrian with an even larger bouquet of sunflower kneeling in front of an angry looking Gwendolyn. The caption read 'Puddlemere Chaser shameless love proposal.' I grinned, enjoying watching Adrian make a fool of himself. In the picture, you could see Gwen trying her hardest not to laugh. Things like this made me wonder how I could've been so self-centered not to have caught on.

"Look below the main feature," Kathryn said.

My eyes trailed downwards. There was a lengthy article talking about Adrian's declaration and a smaller picture of them kissing that made me want to gauge my eyes out. But what really made my stomach churn was a small box towards the end of the page with a picture of Oliver slipping his arm around a dark-haired girl and leaning down to kiss her. It read 'Witch Weekly second top bachelor no longer available?' My eyes popped as I read the article.

' _Oliver Wood, star keeper for Puddlemere United, whose recent divorce sparked the hope of many witches (and wizards) gets cozy with an unnamed witch as he watches his teammate, Adrian Pucey, declare his undying love for a young healer at St. Mungo's. Reporters here at Witch Weekly are begging the new couple to come out, and many are wondering if the mysterious witch is the same that was photographed in pink pajamas trying to crash the Quidditch League's Yule Ball last December. One thing is for certain, ladies, Oliver Wood appears to be out of the market. At least until his next horrible breakup hits the newsstands'_

Oh, crap.

"Anything to say?" I looked up from the magazine, entertaining the thought that Kathryn may not have recognized me. I mean, all you saw was my back! But one look at her angry expression told me that no, she had recognized me this time just like he had in December. "I thought you said you were just friends, no history, no nothing…"

I placed the magazine back on the table and took a deep breath. "That might not have been the full truth," I acknowledge. By Merlin, if I wanted things to work with Oliver this time I was going to have to come clean and keep it that way. No more lies, no more secrets. "Oliver and I have a bit of a… convoluted history."  
Kathryn snorted. "You don't say? I should've realised it though, why else would he insist on calling you by a name you despise if he didn't fancy you? How could've I been so stupid!" she slammed her fist on the table and then recoiled, nursing it and cursing.

"Kathryn, nothing happened while you two were together," I raised my hands to try to placate it. "I was going to tell you once-"

"Once you got your shiny new job?" she spat. An unnatural laugh, for Kathryn at least, escaped her lips. "How much of an idiot do you take me for? For Merlin's sake, Elizabeth, I _do_ have brains for things other than shoes and nail polish."

"I'm sorry?" what could I say? I'm sorry the Quidditch star you've been pinning for ages, that you dated, has been secretly in love with me all this time? And I'm sorry I return the feeling?

She scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. "You should be sorry. I can't wait until you get that stupid job and I never have to see you again. Now go, I don't want to see your face," I bit my lip wanting to say something that would show her how sorry I was she had found out this way. Because I couldn't be sorry that Oliver and I were together, not when things seemed to be working my way. I guess I never realised that despite how much she annoyed me on a daily basis, Kathryn had become a sort of friend to me.

"I'm sorry, Kat," I said before closing the door behind her. Alice began sniggering the second I was back in our office, but I ignored her, choosing to focus on my work instead.

The rest of the day passed in the same awkward tension. The favoritism that Kathryn had shown my way was now being bestowed on Alice and I had to watch from the sidelines as she smiled smugly. It didn't matter that I had to eat lunch alone because I had become a nobody in Kathryn's social group. At the end of the day, I went home to the bloke I was crazy about.

I could live with a couple more weeks of social isolation. That is, if I got the job.

In the misery of the day, I forgot to check the wireless to see how the match was going. Imagine my surprise when I came home at five thirty and the entire Puddlemere team, even the reserves, was there celebrating. Oliver swept me off my feet just after I had gotten in. His mouth crashed against mine in a manner reminiscent of our early Hogwarts days. "I take you it won?"

His grin widened and he began twirling me around. "It was fantastic you should've been there. Corey caught the snitch!"

"That's brilliant," I searched the spinning room for the ash-blond hair but couldn't find him.

"We were losing by thirty points," Oliver continued after he had put me down on the ground, "when Krum and Corey dived. I thought we were done for but then Owen and Evie shot two bludgers at Krum and knocked him off his path, giving Corey just enough time to win us the match!"

Everyone cheered and I laughed, throwing my arms around Oliver's neck. "Semi-finals it is!"

"You'll be there won't you?" he asked after kissing me for a breathless moment. "It's this Saturday, against the Bigonvile Bombers. You wrote about them while you were in Luxembourg, didn't you?'

"Yes and they are no match for you."

We joined in the celebration which involved an awful lot of drinking for a Thursday night. Thankfully, Kathryn was too cross with me to notice my hangover on Friday morning. I suppose there were some perks to having your boss not talking to you. I received a note from Miranda Winterstorm's office, reminding me that my interview was scheduled for six thirty in the afternoon next Friday, as there were interviewing several other candidates throughout the day and Miranda accustomed to take a three hour lunch on Friday. I bit my lip, contemplating. The EuroCup final was scheduled for seven o'clock that evening. If Puddlemere won tomorrow's game, I would have a tight fit to make it to the final.

oOo

"And please welcome, representing the last British team on the competition – PUDDLEMERE UNITED!" I cheered until my throat went dry. Beside me, clad from head to toe in navy blue, Gwen was jumping up and down. "And now ladies and gentlemen, referee Arsenius Watson throws the Quaffle and – THE GAME BEGINS!"

The only female player in Luxembourg's team caught the quaffle. She was a white as she sped past Adrian towards the goalposts. Evie threw her a bludger, which she dodged, diving and passing the Quaffle to her companion. "Maier in possession, dodges Griffiths, passes back to Albrecht throws and – scores! Bigonville Bombers 10, Puddlemere Untied 10!"

I cursed alongside everyone else in the booth. Up in the air, Oliver gave no indication that he was upset he had been scored on in the first five minutes. The Bombers were known for their offensive attacks and consistently ranked amongst the top-scorers in the International Quidditch League. Their weak spoke was generally their seeking, as they spent an awful lot of time focusing on their attack to man their defenses. If Puddlemere wanted to win, they had to try and catch the snitch as soon as possible – or else score enough goals to keep the margin low.

"Chasers Bierman and Maier go into eagle formation, speeding towards the opposite goals, looks like they're going for the second goal of the night but- wait, no, that must've hurt! Maier's down, good bludger from beater Twiddle, Grffiths in possession, passes to Bradley back to Griffiths shoots and ahh! Keeper Protz block, quaffle back in possession of the Bombers!"

I stifled a groan. Wilda had been so close, so close. The Bombers tried to get close enough to shoot again, but were diverted by a bludger sent by Owen. Adrian caught the quaffle but only got halfway through the pitch before a bludger slammed on his upper back, giving Albrecht the opportunity to score again. Adrian was so angry, he chased after her and a cobbing foul was called. "Idiot, needs to keep that temper under control. Did you see how he smashed his elbow into her ribcage?"

I ignored Gwen's muttering, or Maud shouting death threats at Adrian and focused on Albrecht. Her blond hair was wiping against her face as she prepared to take the penalty shot. She backtracked, took speed and threw the ball through the right hoop – it was going, going – and Oliver blocked it, almost falling behind the hoop. Puddlemere cheered, watching the keeper throw the ball back to Luke who dived from beneath Bierman to pass to Wilda- who scored.

"Puddlemre 10, Bombers 20!"

From then on, the game got a lot more brutal. The Bombers chasers got a foul called for entering all three into the scoring area at once. Adrian took the shot, but missed because one of the Bomber's beaters grabbed onto the tail of his broom. The crowd roared with indignation. That was the kind of stunt Flint would pull off during a Slytherin-Gryffindor match, not the ruddy semi-finals!

Two more shots were awarded for Puddlemere, Adrian missed his but Wilda got one in, bringing the score up to par.

Bierman caught the snitch, Evie throw a bludger at him but he did a reverse pass, and Maier caught it and shot. Oliver blocked but was hit by a bludger to the side, making him drop the quaffle and allowing Albrecth to score.

I buried my head in my hands so I wouldn't have to see. The sight of the bludger impacting against Oliver had made me nauseous. "Pucey scores! Puddlemere 30, Bombers, 30!"

I looked up just as Gwen threw her arms around me, celebrating. Of course, it didn't last long. For the next fifteen minutes, Puddlemere was unable to get a hold of the quaffle, and the Bombers scored three more times, bringing their points to 60. Evie and Owen were hitting bludgers with all the speed of a snitch, but the Bombers' chasers were too fast to get many hits in. Meanwhile, Corey and the other seeker, König were flying in circles. The snitch had yet to make an appearance.

Half an hour brought the score 100-160, in the Bomber's favor. Owen had managed to knock down their keeper, who was being tended by mediwizards and had yet to return to the field. This provided Puddlemere with a minimal advantage, as it was still close to impossible to take the quaffle from the chasers.

The game had gone on for two hours when Wilda called a time-off. Puddlemere was losing 120- 300. My legs muscles were cramping from too much standing, so I took a seat and rested my head against the back of the seat. This was a slow, arduous torture. Oliver had gotten hit with a bludger to his left shoulder and another to the gut. Adrian was sporting a broken nose and what looked like a dislocated elbow by the way he was having trouble throwing the Quaffle. Even Owen, who normally never got injured, got a bad bludger on his knee. Of course, the Bombers were getting as much as they were delivering, and this game was turning out dirtier than anything Flint could've concocted.

The only two who hadn't been injured yet were the seekers, both of which were staying out of the picture.

"And we're back, Puddlemere back in flight," I sprung back up on my seat to continue watching. The referee launched the quaffle and Luke stole it from Albrecht's nose. He zoomed forwards, narrowly avoiding a bludger that would've smashed his skull, shot and scored. I looked over at Gwen. Where the hell had that come from?

"Quaffle in possession by Maier, Maier to Bierman, back to Maier, avoids a bludger is going to shoot and –ouch that must've hurt!" Evie's bludger hit Bierman right at the back of his neck. I looked away as the captain, Maier, called a time out. And people said women made lousy beaters.

"Is it me, or is Puddlemere buying time?" Gwen asked. I followed her gaze and landed on Corey. While the Bombers' were waiting to see if their chaser would be back on the game, Corey was making use of the time off to hunt for the snitch. "But he shouldn't catch it yet! They're still down by thirty points!"

I stole Gwen's omnioculars and examined Puddlemere's team. The two beaters were chasing the bludgers amongst themselves, as if it were a match of muggle tennis. The three chasers were resting, using the time out to get some water. Oliver was stationed near the middle hoop without moving. "They're going to bring the chasers down."

"What?"

I passed the omnioculars back to her and pointed. "See what Evie and Owen are doing? They're priming themselves for the game, as soon as the Bombers' chasers get back in the air; they're going to be thrown into a bludger-trap. See how the bludgers keep going in circles?"

Oliver had explained this to me before. The bludgers were magically programmed to follow any player regardless of team, but they also had a temper. Like the snitch was mischievous, the bludgers were vindictive. Astute beaters could manipulate them by pseud-training them to follow them in circles. Bludgers didn't like to be made fun of and would want to knock those players out. This provided the team with a wonderful advantage since all you needed to do was fly close enough to the member of the opposite team and then dive when a bludger came at you. It was an effective move that could monopolize the entire playing field. It was also rarely used since several beaters had ended up decapitated.

"You're right," Gwen said, lowering her omnioculars. "This thing says it's called the Prostesc manouver. It also said that's Romanian for stupid."

The game restarted. Gwen and I were back on our feet and holding hands. Bierman was still down, with no apparent prognosis of returning to the game. Evie and Owen had to fly faster and crazier to keep the bludgers from getting to them. The Bombers' beaters, Karkensen and Amundsen were trying their hardest to keep the bludgers from hitting their players, and the two remaining chasers were doing their best to keep away from the danger zone.

One bludger smashed against Wilda, sending her off her broom and down twenty feet. I saw Evie curse and hit the bludger back towards Owen who missed being hit by it by an inch. The balls were getting bloodthirsty. They almost broke the handle of Adrian's broom, and stopped him from scoring. Thankfully Luke had been flying just beneath him and managed to score as that same bludger almost obliterated the Bombers' keeper.

Twenty-points. They were only twenty-points away.

But scoring was costing them heavy losses. Wilda got back on her broom after fifteen minutes, but both Evie and Owen had gotten a hit, and Luke narrowly missed having his arm chopped off. Another bludger went chasing after Owen, but Karkesten got it instead, giving Adrian an open shot.

Just ten more points.

A bludger went after Oliver and slammed against his right foot. I gripped Gwen's hand so tightly she had to jinx my hand away. "Keep it together woman," but her voice was shaky as another bludger followed Adrian all the way towards the Bombers' hoops. Maier and Albrecht were slamming against him by the sides. He had no place to hide. The bludger crashed against his back, sending him spiraling down. Gwen gasped but there was no time.

"And the seekers are speeding up! They've seen the snitch!"

All warmth drained from my body. Corey couldn't he knew they were still losing by 150 points exactly – if he caught it now, the match would end up in a tie.

"And ouch, that must've hurt! Puddlemere is down two chasers but wa-wait yes, she scores! Puddlemere is on the lead by ten points!" my head snapped away from the seekers and back to the game. Luke was sprawled down on the floor, a leg bent at a wrong angle. Wilda was being chased by a quaffle. Owen flew in to keep it from killing her and got hit by it in the arm. I searched the pitch for Corey, urging him to catch the snitch and end the bloodshed.

"Beater Brocklehurst is down," I closed my eyes, listening to nothing but the beating of my heart. Three Puddlemere players and two Bombers' players down. Someone needed to catch that ruddy snitch. I opened my eyes again and searched the pitch for the seekers.

Corey was head to head with the seeker König; they seemed to be trying to push each other off the broom. If the referee wasn't flying around trying to avoid a bludger himself, he would've called in two penalties for excessive use of elbows.

Corey dropped a few meters in a rapid dive. König was right behind him. I stole Gwen's omnioculars again and zoomed in. The snitch was just a few short inches away from Corey's grip, if he would just stretch his arm a little –a large white body flew on top of Corey: the Bombers' seeker had been thrown away from his broom. Corey turned to the side to avoid being brought down but he was getting too close to the limits of the pitch, he was going to crash against the stalls-

"WITHERS CATCHES THE SNITCH! PUDDLEMERE WINS 310-300!"

Yes! I was up and jumping and hogging Gwen and crying and everywhere around me it was mayhem. The sound of Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here bounced off every inch of the stadium as every Puddlemere supported joined in to sing the anthem.

"Puddlemere United advances to the finals of the EuroCup! Tune in tomorrow as the second contender for the finals is decided."

I couldn't wait to meet the team after they were all healed and shower. Actually, screw that. I could've snogged Oliver bloody and sweaty.

"And remember, the finals of the 1999 EuroCup are next Friday August 27th. Puddlemere United against either the Heidelberg Harriers or the Braga Broomfleet!"

Oh crap. I felt the balloon of happiness that has nested inside my stomach deflate. Puddlemere had advanced to the finals which were being played on the same day I had the most important career interview of my life.

Bugger.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 – Let down

The evening after Puddlemere's spectacular victory against the Bigonville Bombers, Oliver and I went to his dad's house for dinner to celebrate Oliver's twenty-third birthday. "I still don't understand why you didn't want an _actual_ party," Adrian and Owen had designed a massive bash (to be held at our poor flat, of course) as decadent as the 'Happy Divorce' shin-ding they threw him last fall but Oliver had flat-out refused insisting on a quiet dinner at home.

With his dad.

Who never liked me.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, placing a chaste kiss on the top of my head. "Is this so bad? I don't get to see my dad too often, what with Quidditch and all, and after mum…" his voice trailed, and he gave me another kiss. I snuggled closer to him and squeezed his stomach, trying to get him off that train of thought.

It was silly of me to have forgotten that Mrs. Wood had been murdered during a raid on Diagon Alley last year. Oliver had been very close to his mum, even if he didn't speak often of what had happened. I had grown so used to celebrating my birthdays without any parental involvement that it was easy to forget that hadn't been the status quo for everyone else.

We arrived at his house in silence. The Wood's lived in a nice cottage-like home south of Edinburg. Thanks to the accord of 1717, travel anywhere between Great Britain was made local by both flu and apparition. It wasn't until 1801 that Ireland was included into this agreement in an attempt to unify all magical communities north of Continental Europe. To go everywhere else, you needed to get permits from the Ministry of International Transportation. You also had to use their flu networks.

Oliver stepped forward and held the door open for me to go through. I took the opportunity to run my hand across his stomach as I entered the house.

It looked just like it had years ago. Mr. Wood hadn't moved a thing. The living room had the same sofas with that hideous flower-patterned cover. Different tea cups were placed for decoration on a shelf against the stone chimney. I remember Mrs. Wood had been an avid fan of collecting antique china tea sets; Oliver had gifted her quite a few.

"Oliver, happy birthday," Mr. Wood's voice came from the kitchen. I turned around, trying to keep my hands from wriggling or showing any sign of my anxiety as he approached his son. Mr. Wood placed two rough hands on his son's shoulder before bringing him in for a bear hug. I stood aside, letting my gaze wonder everywhere but at them. "And… Elizabeth, " I jumped when he addressed me to. I tried to plaster a believable smile on my face as Mr. Wood took my hand and pressed it. His eyes told he was not happy that I was back beneath his roof.

"It's so good to see you, Mr. Wood," I chanted, sounding fake even to my own ears. "It's been quite a while."

"Indeed it has," not long enough, his eyes seemed to say. I sighed when he let go of my hand and clapped Oliver on his back to begin leading him towards the kitchen. "Everyone's here already, even Doug. Came all the way back from Lithuania for your birthday. And probably some good tickets to the game against Heidelberg Harriers."

Wait, wait, wait. Doug… why does that name sound familiar? Then the memory of a boisterous, slimy voice jolted my memory.

" _You've got a bird hidden in your room? And I thought you were still a virgin."_

I shuddered. Oh yes, Doug. Oliver's cousin. Which meant… his entire family was waiting in the dining room. I stayed closer to the shadows of the other room and watched Oliver get lifted from the floor by the mammoth of his cousin. A girl that looked to be only a few years older than us, and who was holding a crying baby, came to hug him next. Her hair was the exact same of chestnut brown as Oliver's, but her eyes were green. Oliver greeted every person in the room, before coming to yank me from my safety blanket and begin introducing me to everyone.

"You remember Doug, he studies dragons in Lithuania," Doug wriggled his eyebrows at me and I tried not to recoil. "And that's Claudia, his younger sister. She works for the ministry. This little princess is Grace, she's a year old," Oliver paused to let the baby girl bite on his finger. I watched him amazement as the baby stopped crying and began laughing.

"Oliver's her godfather," Claudia said with a smile. "We named her after Aunt Grace." No wonder Oliver was so affectionate; the baby had his mother's name. An odd sort of warmth crept through my belly as I watched him play with the toddler.

"Everyone sit down," Mr. Wood said. He was carrying a large casserole. An older woman, whom Claudia identified as her mother, Euphemia, was levitating two large pots in front of her. Oliver took my hand and we sat down close to Doug. He finished pointing everyone out as his aunt and cousin helped with dinner.

"Uncle Robert, Euphemia's husband, is dad's older brother. Mum's sister, Aunt Shelley," he pointed towards the older blond woman with too many sapphire rings in her chubby fingers, "never married. Grampa Wood is going a bit deaf; he has to go to St. Mungo's for regular hearing spells."

Euphemia called for silence and shot her son a particularly nasty glare. Dough stopped pretending his utensils were drumsticks and kept quiet. "I just wanted to propose a toast for my favorite nephew-"

"Only one you have," Dough pretended to cough.

His mother acted like she didn't hear him. She probably did, but was too used to this. "For turning twenty-three-"

"Like it's rather hard," Dough said with a roll of his eyes. I almost choked.

"-and I just wanted to say that I am very proud of the man you've become-"

I looked at Dough through the corner of my eyes, waiting for a sardonic comment, but he just shrugged and Euphemia finished her toast. Oliver was red on the cheeks as he offered me some roast hunch of venison. Well, at least it wasn't haggis.

The meal proceeded well. Euphemia kept firing me questions. Where I worked; what I wanted to do with my life; what house I was sorted into (complete dead silence when I said Slytherin. Apparently this was an almost exclusive Gryffindor house. Only Claudia and Oliver's mum had been Ravenclaws); and, how many children I wanted (both Oliver and I choked at that one) before the conversation turned to Oliver.

Euphemia had cleared the plates of the main meal and had brought a large Dundee cake with twenty-three candles. Her husband, Robert, took pictures of Oliver as he blew the candles. I squeezed his hand beneath the table as Euphemia began distributing cake to everyone. I wasn't a big fan of Dundee cake, too much currant flavour, but this one was actually good.

"Did you bake this, Euphemia?" I asked, pointing at my slice with my fork. "Because it's delicious." Beside me Dough laughed and I kicked his shin. I had a feeling Doug and I would become close friends.

The thought startled me of course. Because for Doug and I to become close friends, my relationship with Oliver had to continue to grow and be maintained over an elaborate period of time. And that thought was scary. But good.

"So Oliver, when do you begin working for Scotland?" Mr. Wood said.

My head snapped sideways. _Working for Scotland_? Oliver fidgeted and turned his face away from me so I couldn't see his expression. There was a numbness being born on my fingertips and spreading quickly throughout my nervous system.

"I'm talking to Maud tomorrow, I didn't think it'd be much of an issue but with Puddlemere making it to the finals they'll need to bring the reserve keeper up to speed," I blinked. My fork fell from my hands and clattered against the plate. I ignored.

"You mean you're leaving Puddlemere?" I asked, unaware of the silence that had fallen over the table. Oliver sighed and nodded, still not facing me. "Before the final game."

"Scotland's offer is too promising, Sarah," he said.

"Why does it sound like you're reciting a memorized poem, then?"

Oliver's eyes flashed with something akin to leading. I narrowed mine but got the hint and shut up. I pushed my plate in front of me and sat down against the rest of the chair. Euphemia broke the silence by asking anyone if they wanted tea. I didn't want tea. I wanted to know why my bloody boyfriend was giving up his dream for a second-rate job.

The dinner didn't finish soon enough. Mr. Wood kept shooting Oliver proud glances and made several toasts to the promising future of Scotland's National Team now that they had the great Oliver Wood in their team – as a strategist, not a ruddy player. Oliver was a brilliant strategist, don't get me wrong, but he was a better keeper. The fact that Oliver only responded half-heartedly didn't do much to lift my mood.

I stepped out after dessert to go use the loo. I locked the door behind me and splashed cold water on my face. I hadn't noticed my hands were shaking. I wanted to grab Oliver and shake his head until common sense hit in. with a heavy sigh; I left the loo and hoped I'd be able to pry him away from his father's grasp.

A voice spoke, frightening me. "Elizabeth, or should I call you Sarah? I noticed my son much prefers that name."

I turned around. Faint light was illuminating Mr. Wood's outline, thrusting his face into darkness. "It's Elizabeth."

I thought I saw the flicker of an amused smile. "I see. You're not happy about Oliver's decision to leave Puddlemere," it wasn't a question.

"I see where Oliver got his perceptiveness from."

"Now Elizabeth, Oliver tells me he's quite serious about you. We should drop the hostilities."

I huffed and pushed my fringe away. "It seems Oliver makes a habit of telling you more things than me."

"I am his father."

"Then you should be telling him he's making a big mistake. Keeping for Puddlemere's been his dream since-"

"There comes a time, Elizabeth, when you need to let go of your dreams and begin to see the world for what it really is," he cut me off. "That's the meaning of growing up. Oliver's made a wise choice, one that will bring him closer to-"

"Hating his job for the remainder of his life," my turn to cut him off. "Oliver will go barmy if he's got to sit at a desk for the next four decades or so."

Mr. Wood took in a deep breath. "He'll grow used to it. We all do."

"Is that what you tell yourself every morning when getting ready to go to work?" I said, trying unsuccessful to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Oliver told me you played for Pride of Portee after Hogwarts. Did you give that up in favour of growing up?"

"I did it to be kind to my wife," his reply felt like a slap. "I left Pride to go work for the ministry so I could be there for my wife and my son. Life as a Quidditch player is unpredictable."

"Life at the ministry is a slow poison."

Mr. Wood sighed. We both felt silent. "If you really care for him, Elizabeth, you will not jeopardize him. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity-"

"To make the biggest mistake of his life," I replied, turning around to walk away from him. I knew Oliver's dad had issues, but this was getting ridiculous. "If you really cared for you, _Cecile_ , you would acknowledge that your son is a grown man and let him make his own decisions." I walked away from him, without giving him the opportunity to reply. If Oliver's mum were alive, she would be having a fit, seeing how her husband manipulated her beloved son.

Oliver was kissing his little goddaughter when I got back. He seemed so happy, playing with the baby that it tugged at a part of my psyche I had never given much rein to express itself.

"Do you want to walk around for a bit?" Oliver said after we had _finally_ said our goodbyes. Euphemia had insisted Oliver open his presents in front of everyone like a five year old, and that had taken ages because Doug kept on cracking stupid jokes. It was past midnight by the time we grabbed our coats and left. Frankly, I had never been happier.

I didn't reply, but followed him as he turned the corner. Their house was in a small wizarding community, where the houses appeared small and the gardens were disproportionally large. Oliver took me through a quiet walk around what would've been an enchanting little forest if I hadn't been seething with anger.

"Sarah?" I didn't realize he had stopped walking until I was five feet away from him. I tensed my shoulders and didn't move. Let him come to me. "Are you alright?"

"Why didn't you tell me you accepted Scotland's offer?"

I head him sigh. His footsteps were muffled by the grass. "I did just before the last game. I didn't think we'd qualify to the finals. The League doesn't resume until the fall, and Thaddeus is a decent keeper, they'll do well."

I huffed and didn't bother with a reply. Oliver walked around me and held me by the arms when I tried to turn around from me. "I don't understand why you are so angry about this."

I slapped his hands away. "What were you thinking, accepting Scotland? Oliver you are brilliant at coming up with strategies, but you love playing. You said so, you couldn't imagine just being on the stands not playing!"

"That was before-"

"Before what?"

He run a hand through his hair and took a few steps backwards. "I need to think of my future, Sarah."

I snorted. "Bullshit. You have a wonderful future as Puddlemere's lead keeper which is, may I remind you, what you always wanted."

"And how do you know what I want? How do you know my priorities didn't change?" I raised an eyebrow challenging him to tell me that playing for the team he had followed since childhood wasn't what he wanted most in the world.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you better. Because I signed the contract and I am leaving on Monday."

My mouth fell. "By leaving you mean-"

"They offered me a house here in Edinburg. It'll be closer to my dad and to work and-"

"So you are also leaving _me_."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be a drama queen. I was going to ask you to move in with me."

"How thoughtful."

"What is your problem? You'll be able to continue working at Witch Weekly, and you won't have to sweat about not making it to the final game because of your interview and-"

"You thought of everything, didn't you?" I raised my voice. My hands balled into fists. "How kind of you to keep poor little me in mind as you move on to greater and better things. It's nice to know you won't leave me behind like you will your teammates and your friends."

Oliver groaned and ransacked his hair. He strode towards a nearby tree, punched it and came back. "Do you need to make this harder than it already is?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my chin up. "Would you rather I lie and tell you sweettings? Yes, Oliver, darling, sweetheart, abandoning everyone and everything to pursue the path your beloved daddy wants you to-"

"Do not," he raised a finger and pointed at me, "bring my dad into this. He's only ever given me good advice and he wants to see me succeed."

I took an unconscious step backwards and scoffed at him. "He doesn't want you to succeed, Oliver. If he did, he wouldn't have planted the idiotic idea that your Quidditch playing career is worth nothing-"

"I want a family with you Sarah. I want kids, and a house, and a dog. And Quidditch will always be in the way. You saw how mauled I got at the last match-"

"Infamous Gryffindor courage expires at twenty-three, I see."

"-Would you be happy if I get a bludger to the head-"

"If it gets some sense into you, I might throw it myself-"

"You know what my schedules are like," he grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to look straight into his eyes which were wide with fright. "I was never home when I was married to Briana-"

"She plays for the Harpies, Oliver; she had the same ruddy schedule-"

"But you won't," his voice lowered, "you'll be home alone more often than you'd like. I'll be gone early in the morning and I'll be tired as hell when I come back-"

"Because that has bothered me over the past year-"

"You're telling me you'd be alright with being home alone with a colic baby? Wondering every time I step out on the pitch whether I'm going to fall to my death or be beaten by a rouge bludger or-" I grabbed the side of his face with my hands and he shut up.

"Oliver," I spoke slowly, enunciating each word. "One step at a time. You're bloody twenty-three, not forty. You have an amazing career ahead of you and-"

He pushed me away; I let my hands fall lifelessly beside me while a deep-knotted feeling of disappointment made itself at home inside my gut. I was facing only his back, but when before I could've told him apart in a large crowd, I could barely recognize him standing only just two feet away. "You're not thinking into the future, Sarah."

"Why do you still insist on calling me that?" I asked after a moment's silence. Oliver's back tensed. "I've told you, I'm called Elizabeth."

"Sarah suits you better."

A laugh escaped my lips. "And who are you to decide that?"

"Elizabeth is too abrasive," he turned around. His face looked calmer than before, the shadow of lunacy had been wiped away to show a face that was older than its young years. "You've always been more of a Sarah to me."

"So you want me to be what, more passive, and more dainty? Sarah was my mother, Oliver, not me," I took a step forward to hold his hand. "Are you sure you like me, and not some distorted image of who you'd like me to be?'

"What are you talking about?"

I shook my head and let go of his hand. "You're just like every other bloke, Oliver," my head hung low so he couldn't see my eyes tearing up. Kathryn had said it, Adrian had said it: Oliver waned a fairy-tale princess, he didn't know how to deal with reality. "Terrence wanted me to be the perfect pureblood trophy wife, Ethan wanted me to be a silly little homemaker and you- what do you want me to be?"

I looked up. He seemed to have run out of idiocies to say, so I continued, ignoring the swelling in my stomach and the dryness in my throat. "I'm not a passive, sweet, caring little thing you need to protect. I can stand on my own. I swear, and I'm rude, and I'm definitely not quiet. I'm outspoken, and insecure, and a mental case. And Elizabeth fits me better than Sarah because it's my own."

My chest was heaving and a small sob escaped my lips. Oliver tried to get close to me, but I held him away. I hugged my torso and looked at him, feeling all my expectations crashing down on me. "And I'm a stupid thing for believing you would be able to get that," I turned on my feet and apparated into the flat.

Corey, his boyfriend Daniel, and Adrian were watching a muggle football game when I appeared, tripping over the carpet and falling on the floor. A jolt of pain rushed through my nervous system and I cursed. "Lisa? Liking the floor?"

"Shut up," I said through gritted teeth, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hands.

"Merlin, what happened?" Adrian was kneeling beside me. He offered me his hands and I took him, allowing him to help me on my feet. "Are you crying," his rough thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping a tear away. He stared at it like it was an alien substance. "What did Wood do, and do I need to hex him?"

I shook my head any pulled apart. Corey and Daniel were both looking. "You will, hex him, I mean. But not because of me. Oliver's leaving Puddlemere. He accepted Scotland's offer."

There was a short moment of silence before Adrian barked a laugh. "Is this supposed to be funny?"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?"

"You can't be serious," Corey searched my face, as if he were trying to find something that wasn't there. "Blimey, he wouldn't – not when we have the ruddy finals in a week."

A loud 'pop' made everyone jump. Oliver looked around the room and stopped when he caught sight of me. "Sarah-"

"Are you leaving Puddlemere?" Adrian stepped between Oliver and I. Oliver's eyes flashed with hurt, but he nodded. Adrian shook his head and took a few steps backwards until he bumped into me. "I though Lisa was just making it up-"

"I was going to tell Maud tomorrow, but right now I need to talk to Sarah-"

"Elizabeth," I muttered from behind Adrian.

"I don't reckon she wants to talk to you, Wood."

Oliver grunted and pushed Adrian out of the way. Adrian stumbled and almost fell on top of the sofa. "You are really blowing this out of proportion."

"No, Wood," I said slapping his hands away from my body. "It's you who hasn't gotten the memo."

"What memo? Nothing will change between us, I'm not asking you to turn into a trophy wife or to stop chasing your dreams like bloody Higgs-"

"And what about your dreams, have you given them a second through?"

"I told you, this is the best for my future-"

"A future you'll have to plan without me because I refuse to hold your hand while you make a mess out of your life."  
Corey gasped. Oliver just gaped. He tried speaking, but no words came out of his mouth. Inside my head, all I could feel was the thumping of my blood, pressing against every vessel, threatening a major breakdown. "Funny," he said at last, lacing each word with a type of poison I had never heard coming from his mouth before. "I always thought the point of relationships was to be there for one another."

I shook my head. "But not like this. I'm sorry, Oliver," I rushed to the door of my bedroom and collapsed on the floor when it closed behind me. Oliver banged on the door.

"You talk about growing up and then go hide in your room? Very mature Sarah."

"It's Elizabeth dammit!"

He banged on the door one more time, hard enough for me to hit my head against it. I cradled it in my arms. "Just listen to me."

"I think she heard enough, mate," a wave of gratitude washed over me at Adrian's words. Oliver told him to sod off and continued banging on the door.

I placed my hands on the floor to help me stand up. When I opened the door, Adrian and Oliver were nose to nose, about to punch each other. "If you're going to say something that's going to make this better, now would be the time." Oliver shifted gear, pushing Adrian away and cutting the short distance between us. He grabbed my hands and I let them.

"Sarah-"  
"Elizabeth."

"-I know you don't agree, but it's my decision. Why can't you support me?"

I shook my head and took my hands away from his; they were feeling too warm and the look in his eyes was too honest for me to handle. "Because I know you're making a mistake."

"So you're going to abandon me every time I screw something up?"

I cupped his cheek in my hand. "No, I want to be there when you screw up to say I told you so," that cracked a small smile. It was gone the second I withdrew my hand back to the safety of my own body. "But I know what it looks like when a person makes a decision based on what others want, not what they want. I've been there, except I didn't have anyone telling me what a twit I was being until it was too late. And I'm happy to be the one telling you that Maud won't take you back easily when you come with your tail between your legs on Friday begging to play."

"Don't worry," Oliver replied. His expression had hardened and it near tore me to watch him stare at all of us like we were traitors. But I'm Slytherin, the end justifies the means. "It's not going to happen," with another loud 'pop' he was gone.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 – Successful

The morning after, the three of us were having breakfast in silence. I couldn't taste the toast I was eating. The tea was watered-down and insipid. And all around us was the feeling that it should've been four people up at five in the morning, not three.

"You really don't think he'll show up to practice today?" Corey asked.

Adrian and I exchanged a glance. I sighed and resumed playing with my toast. "He was being serious, Corey. Oliver has ditched us."

"I don't get it. We're so close to the finals. Puddlemere hasn't won the EuroCup in over two-hundred years… you're telling me ruddy Scotland couldn't wait a week?"

I huffed, dropped my toast and rested my head on hands. "He's gotten this idea into his head that playing Quidditch will jeopardize his life," both of the snorted and I had to agree. It was insane. I knew the bloke had some serious issues up in that pretty head of his, but this was beyond absurd. He loves the game more than anything in the world. Adrian shook his head sadly and vanished all the dishes. No one had eaten much. "It's his father… he didn't have the guts to be a professional player and now he's dumping those insecurities on his son who could become great."

"You need to talk some sense into him, Liz," Adrian said, leaning across the countertop and poking me in the shoulder. "He won't listen to anyone else."

I scoffed. "Weren't you here last night?" I waved my hand in the general direction of the living room. "He wasn't paying me a whole lot of attention, was he?"

Adrian sighed and looked away, resigned. I stood up to change, deciding to arrive to work earlier. I couldn't stand being in this flat anymore. It was just too painfully ironic that Oliver would chuck his dreams for the sake of a 'normal' life, when I had been refusing to do exactly that since I was seventeen.

Every day passed by in the same monotonous, morose manner. Oliver didn't show up for practice on Monday. Maud went berserk; she even came to our flat and tore Oliver's room upside down, sure that he was hiding beneath his bed. But few items still remained in the room, only the big furniture. The Quidditch posters and old Gryffindor flag were gone. His small bookcase with thirty editions of Quidditch Across the Ages was also gone, as were all the black dragonskin leather book he had used throughout the years to write his Quidditch plays in. I reckoned he would need those for his new job.

I suppose no one really believed he _would_ ditch everything. Evie went as far as travelling to Edinburg to search for him, but when she finally found the house where he was staying he didn't open the door. The team was disenchanted, not that the reserve keeper wasn't good material, but Oliver had played first string for only two years.

The day of the match arrived with unusual expectations. I woke up at five like the other days to keep the boys company while they refused to eat. Corey was once again pale and was trying to swallow some scrambled eggs without much success. Adrian had a determined look on his face. "So you won't make it tonight?" he asked me.

I shook my head and drank some tea. "My interview starts about half an hour before the game and I don't know how long it'll take."

He nodded, and said nothing more until they both left the house. I stayed a while longer, sitting by the breakfast bar watching the early morning out of our tiny kitchen window. I was dreading going to work, as I had for the past week. Kathryn still hadn't gotten over ignoring me; in fact, she had spoken to me for the first time yesterday only to inquire whether the rumours that Oliver Wood was no longer playing for Puddlemere United were true.

"Well, I always thought he was a bit touched in the head," she said and walked away.

I had no reason to expect that today would be any different except, of course, that I may get another job within Witch Weekly and then Kathryn wouldn't have to see my face on a daily basis. That thought was not as comforting as I would've liked it to be.

So I took my time showering and dressing. Willow and Gwen had come in yesterday and helped me pick the perfect interview outfit for today: light blue blouse and a black pencil skirt. I had been practising some of the emergency clothing cleaning spells that had appeared in Witch Weekly three issues ago; they covered anything from mustard stains to too much perspiration. I wrapped my hair into some bun, again following Witch Weekly, and left the flat.

For being a fashion and gossip oriented magazine, everyone was in high spirits for tonight's game. Puddlemere hadn't won the EuroCup in two hundred years, and it would help boost morale if a British team won so close after the War. Not that morale needed any more boosting. I avoided most of the celebrating witches, all of whom were dressed in bright navy robes, and made my way towards my desk. I plopped down and began sorting through my mail in auto pilot.

Kathryn stopped by around noon to wish me good luck today, and I managed a small, crooked smile. The rest of the day went as fast as a snail. At five o'clock everyone left; some had gone earlier, some hadn't even come in if they'd gotten tickets for tonight. I had left mine in the flat, knowing that even in the event that I finished my interview at a reasonable hour, I would still be too deflated to go watch the game. I hadn't wanted to acknowledge the truth, and seeing someone else wearing Oliver's robes and guarding the hoops would be just the thing to make me realize this hasn't all been a bad dream.

At six fifteen I packed all my things, checked my lipstick and hair, and climbed the stairs towards the last floor. Miranda carried out the interviews in her own office. It was a slow and steady climb, punctured only by my lack of in taking oxygen.

The seventh floor was covered from bottom to ceiling in white marble tiles. The handrails looked to be weaved from gold and silver; I inspected them closer and was fairly certain they must've been goblin made. The paintings here were almost as tall as the entire wall, and all of them showed impeccably dressed witches and wizards, one of whom was snickering at my choice of footwear.

With my cheeks blushing, I waited outside of Miranda's office to be called in. like the floors below, this one was partially empty. When at six thirty no one had come up, I knocked on the door. A soft "Come in," came from inside. I took a deep breath, patted down my skirt and walked in with my head held high.

Miranda Winterstorm was seated behind the largest desk I had ever seen. Following the same theme of the rest of the floor, it too was made of marble with gold accents. An even larger window provided a view not to London, but to some countryside where the sun still shined and the trees were still full of green leaves. She looked up from the stack of parchments she was eyeing, and pushed her gold-rimmed glasses away from her eyes. "May I help you?"

I blinked. "We have an interview scheduled for six-thirty," I wanted to kick myself for sounding so unsure. "For the copy editor position?"

Miranda narrowed her eyes. "But that position was filled last week."

Well, bugger me. "I received a letter a month ago stating that I had an interview for today," I insisted. My heart was fluttering against my chest. This couldn't be happening.

She placed her parchments on the desk and leaned back against her leather chair. "The letter you received Miss Montieth was for an interview, I never wrote anything about the copy editor position," she graced me a closed lip smile and waved her hand to the two chairs in front of her. "Please sit down, our interview shall begin shortly."

Trying to not trip over my feet, I pushed one of the leather chairs back and took a sit, placing my handbag carefully on the floor and crossing my legs. Miranda continued to read her parchments and ignored me. I tried to keep my gaze focused on the utopian paradise behind her, instead of letting them roam through her room. Somehow, I figured it would be rather rude. There was a gold clock on her desk; its ticking was the only sound in the room other than the ruffle of parchments.

Six forty came and went. Miranda eyed the clock and ticked her tongue.

Seven. The match must've started by now. I could imagine the teams being introduced and felt a pang when Wood wasn't called out in my imaginations.

At five past seven there was a timid knock on the door. Miranda placed her parchments back on the desk and stood up. I looked backwards, confused. "Come in," she said, gliding over to the door. I took my cue from her and also stood up, arranging my skirt again.

A young woman with bushy brown hair kept in a messy bun walked in. Miranda greeted her most gracefully, "Hermione, so good that you could make it." There was another figure behind her, taller and leaner, dressed in silk blue robes. "And Narcissa, so wonderful to have you here. Please do take a seat," Miranda waved her wand and a third chair appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm so sorry for being late, Mrs. Winterstorm," the girl, Hermione (Granger?) said as she took a seat. "Work kept me later than expected today," she threw me a flitting smile which I tried to return.

I turned to take my seat again when my eyes locked with the light blue of Narcissa Malfoy. "Elizabeth, you've grown even more beautiful than the last time I saw you," she said, grabbing my hands and clasping them in her own. I gave her another wordless smile and followed her lead in taking a seat. Hermione was asking Mrs. Winterstorm something, but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.

What in Salazar's name was happening?

"Let's get straight to business. Elizabeth," I perked up when Miranda called out my name. "You've met Narcissa Malfoy, I presume?" I nodded. "Good. This lovely young lady is no other than Hermione Granger, I'm certain you've heard of her," because only unborn children _haven't_. Up close the war hero looked much less intimidating than in all the stories. Her hair was falling all over the place and her robes weren't ironed, but there was strength and happiness shinning in her light brown eyes. "This is Elizabeth Montieth, the girl I picked for the job.

I looked away, trying to keep another pair of brown eyes out of my mind. "This is the interview we had arranged," Miranda said. "I know you applied for the copy editor job but let's be honest, Elizabeth, you've been with us for a year and while I have no doubt that you'll manage to snatch that job in just a couple more, you are not prepared for it."

That's encouraging. "I do, however, believe that your talents _are_ being wasted in the fashion department," Miranda's steel grey eyes locked with mine. "Which was proven to me by the wonderful piece you wrote about a young Miss Oakley. It is exactly the kind of piece that Witch Weekly ought to publish, we have too many articles on aphrodisiacs and shoes to render any generation of women nothing but mannequins. I want to change our perception and bring this publication at a new level, and you're going to help me with it."

"Won't you lose clients?" I asked before I could keep my mouth shut. Rumours had proliferated about Miranda Winterstorm's revolutionary ideas for the magazine since she had taken over two years ago. Many lunch conversations had been centered about how she would either modernize the content or tear down a seven hundred year old publication.

Miranda didn't seem upset. She laughed my comment off and waved my hand dismissively. "Silly girl, we're still going to publish about aphrodisiacs and shoes because we are women, and for one reason or another we all have a weakness for shoes," she paused and smile. "But I believe there is space amongst Witch Weekly pages for more mature content, for content that celebrates other aspects of the feminine interest that go beyond what to wear with red lipstick."

"The pieces we received were good, but most writers really wrote about their mother. Your piece was very alluring, the story of a young girl thrown in the midst of the war while still a student at Hogwarts, fighting with the insurgency to achieve freedom. It's exactly what I want my readers to hear."

"Miranda approached me," Narcissa said, "about doing an interview about what it was like to house He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in my home," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I had heard about the Malfoy's state of affairs during the war, but I had really never stopped to think about how it must've been like. "But I refused thinking it was just a publicity ploy."

"As for me," Hermione said, "well, I've been rejecting so many offers for interview it just felt unfair. But I liked the way you handled your cousin's story," she finished with a smile. "It was very personal and touching, with a hint of mystery. I still want to know who sent her all those chocolate frogs."

"That makes several of us," I muttered.

"You spun the tale in a way that was engaging and raw," Miranda said, "but still very much real. Readers will love the story of a young girl receiving chocolate frogs from a secret lover to keep her hope going when everything else was failing. That's the kind of material we want: stories of resilience, of strength- and of love. And you, Elizabeth, will hunt them down and tell them for the world."

 _A young girl receiving chocolate frogs from a secret lover to keep her hope going when everything else was failing_ … oh blimey, cold-hard realizations are annoying. I was never going to let Adrian, Mr. I-don't-do-romance live this one down.

I wondered if Gwen had figured it out and just chosen not to tell me?

"What do you say?"  
I brought my attention back to the issue at hand. "You want me to be a reporter, then?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "You'll have your own column, monthly. You can write several pieces on the same woman tell their story and make it justice. Bring up the little details like the chocolate frog that'll make it compelling. I believe we may even be able to publish a book, once we have sufficient material. Narcissa and Hermione," she turned her head to nod and smile at each woman, "have kindly agreed to be interviewed by you as long as you put as much truth into their stories as you did for your proposal. Are you interested?"

Was there really point in thinking about this? It wasn't what I wanted to do, editing. It'd require hunting material down and spending hours and hours going over material to write the perfect piece. But a book in the end and my own ruddy column? It was more than I could've hoped for. "Of course."

Miranda smiled and waved her hand. A large bottle of elf made wine appeared with four glasses. "Wonderful, let us drink and celebrate!"

It was close to nine when I left the building, a new shiny 'Witch Weekly – Reporter' badge smugly tucked inside my pocket and a new agenda where I had scribbled the dates for my first interview with both Narcissa Malfoy and Hermione Granger. I wasn't walking down Diagon Alley; I was _floating_. My insides were squirming in giddiness, and headlines and prizes and nominations were going through my head. This was it; this was the seed to my success. This was everything I've ever wanted and more.

Every store was closed. I wanted to celebrate, but I knew my flat would be empty. Willow and Flint had gone to the game, as had Gwen. Adrian and Corey were playing. I sighed, making my way towards the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. What was the point, I thought as I opened the heavy wooden door, of getting your dream handed to you in a silver platter if all the people you'd want to celebrate with are not available?

"One Frisky Witch," I said to the bold bartender. He flashed me a toothless grin and prepared my drink. I paid and took a seat in a far corner of the place. It was packed, although most people were centered around a large wireless. I tried to keep my focus on my giggling drink and not listen.

The alcohol was welcome, but after three drinks it became clear that it wasn't sufficient. I brought my fourth one over to my table to find it occupied. "Higgs, sod off," Terrence looked up and flashed me a smile. He stood up and sauntered to where I was standing. I could feel the alcohol beginning to play with my senses, because when he placed a hand on my hip, it was a pleasurable tingle that roamed up and down my body, not a wave of nausea.

"I'm just a bloke that's surprised that such a beautiful witch is drinking alone on a Friday evening," he took my drink from me. "Frisky witch? If I had known you were in that kind of mood, I would've approached you a lot earlier."

"Burn in hell," I pushed past him, feeling the place where his hand had been cooling down, and sat down. Terrence laughed and scooted over me.

"Touched a sensitive nerve, didn't I?" he wrapped an arm over my shoulders and I shrugged him off, but that only brought him closer. "Tell me Lizzie, your little game with the kitty didn't work out again did it?" I didn't reply. "When are you going to learn, only a snake can satisfy another," his warm breath was making the hairs at the back of my head stand up. His lips brushed against my neck and I jumped. "Wood's really a pussy if he let you go again. Me on the other hand, I learned the lesson," he grabbed the side of my face and crashed his mouth on mine. My eyes widened and my stomach felt like a cold cave.

I fished my wand from my pocked and flicked it; Terrence went flying off from the booth and landed on the floor. I stood up to walk around him and leave, but he grabbed to my ankle almost tripping me. "How many times does a girl have to dump you for you to get the point?" I pointed my wand at him and green sparks flew out. He withdrew his hand.

"Why are you here alone then?" he spat. His mouth was twisted into a horrible interpretation of a smile. "You think you're so high and above me, you're only deluding yourself. You are alone tonight because no one wants you, because no one is willing to fight for you like I am," I snorted. "Why else would Woody leave the ruddy country? He never gave a fuck."

"All you wanted was a toy wife to complete your image of a successful pureblood heir."  
Terrence stood up, laughing. He walked towards me and I flinched, but stood my ground. "And what do you think Wood wanted from you, your wonderful personality? He's a man like everyone else, Elizabeth, and frankly you're not the mighty price you believe yourself to be," one hand caressed my cheek and I slapped it away, pointing my wand at his throat. He laughed. "You can keep on deluding yourself into thinking you can do better than me-"

"I can do better than me."  
"-but one day you're going to come begging for me to take you back-"

"-please hold your breath while waiting-"

"-and I won't take you. And you'll end up all alone, like tonight," he tried to place a kiss on my cheek but I slapped him. "You little bitch…"

"Terrence, I loved you once and you were a git then, and you haven't improved. I do deserve better than you and that's what I'll get, so why don't you just go and ask Darlene to marry you? I hear she's divorced now," I spat, taking a few steps away from him and towards the door. My whole body was shaking.

"If you deserve better, why do you always end up alone?" he shouted, and I ignored him, keeping my eyes on my shoes and marching away. I wasn't looking where I was walking and collided against someone. They held to my arms to steady me. I looked up, blinking fast to clear my eyes, and saw the happy face of a middle aged man with a large ginger beard.

"I'm sorry – I wasn't looking-"

"Lass Puddlemere's winning, there's nothing that could ruin this day for me!" his voice was loud enough to hurt my ears. I noticed he was wearing Puddlemere's new jersey and a new stabbing pain ached inside my belly. Of course, the match… "You just sit here and listen, this is history in the makin'," he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me down on an empty chair. I wanted to protest, say that I really didn't care that Puddlemere was winning because the one player I really wanted to root for was gone, pursuing something other than what he had always wanted and that sickened me; but what was worse was knowing Terrence was right, and that I would never find another bloke like Wood because despite the fact that we argued more than we kissed we were- "And Denzel avoids bludger, passes to PInz, back to Denzel, throws up, Weeber catches throws and – she misses! Fantastic block by Puddlemere keeper Oliver Wood!"

"What?" I looked around the room as everyone dressed in blue cheered. I yanked at the robes' the the bearded wizard. He looked down with a large grin. "Oliver Wood is playing?"


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 – Ambitious Part I – Oliver

The alarm clock rung once, twice – Oliver slapped it shut. He turned around on the bed and covered himself with the heavy blankets. He remember his mum had always bought some of these: wool and scratchy, but warm in the cold winter months. At Hogwarts he had grown used to a softer version, silk and feathers, and it was that kind he had bought before. It only made sense that returning to his roots meant returning to his old customs.

But they were still bloody itchy.

He threw the covers off of him and stood up. He was no longer required to wake up at the break of dawn since he didn't need to practice anymore, but it was a habit he couldn't break. So up he was at five thirty with a barely risen sun on his way to take a shower. He ate breakfast alone. The little cottage the Scottish National Team had given him was quite similar to the one his parent's owned: mostly wood and stone with a medieval country feel. It was nothing like the flat he had shared in Britain, which was old fashioned but still built somewhere in the past two-hundred years.

The same amount of time that Puddlemere had gone without winning the EuroCup…

He shook his head and left his dishes dirty, thinking he might as well take advantage of the fact that no one would pester him about them later. That thought made his throat constrict; perhaps he just wasn't meant to live alone, he thought as he shrugged in a coat and walked outside. Living within walking distance of the stadium was a bit of an advantage, though.

Oliver arrived before the team (or the coach) had. Coach Frazier Lyne, a ginger man in his early fifties, had given him a small office with a window overlooking the pitch so he could watch the players practice and be inspired. Oliver walked across to the pitch, pausing at the hoops to run his hand through their cold surface before going up to his office with a sigh. On his very first day he had tried to practice with the team, under the excuse that it would help him gather information about their techniques, but Coach Lyne had rejected that idea, saying it was bad luck for anyone but the players to touch the Quaffle in their pitch (unless it was a game). Even the reserve, all of them who looked to be around Oliver's own age, had their own set of equipment to practice with.

So Oliver had spent three tedious days throwing his old child-sized Quaffle up in the air and catching it again. He hadn't come up with a single new play as of yet, but no one seemed to care. At the end of the day, the team would invite him to go for a drink at the local pub, Sheep's Stomach, but Oliver always refused, preferring to go home and fly around the trees, avoiding them like they were players.

This whole shenanigan was one big reminder of his childhood.

He had overhead the team's captain, a rather good-looking woman in her mid-thirties, Elspet Aitken mention to the much younger seeker, Duncan Begbie, that Oliver didn't seem to be adapting very well. He had to agree with that.

He hadn't had a single good night's sleep since he moved into his new place. His dad had helped him bring the boxes of his things over, and they had drunk a few beers and recalled the good ol' times. His father had also told him he was proud of Oliver's decision to move back home, that it was a manly decision; but every time he mentioned it, it sent a ripple of nausea through his body as he remembered Sarah's cheerless face as she told him she wouldn't hold his hand.

He had wanted to smash his beer bottle into the hearth, but that would've exploded the house probably. Instead, after his father had gone home, Oliver cracked open the 'Welcome to the team' firewhiskey bottle Coach Lyne had given him and drunk it to a stupor. It was the first time in her career he had got to work late – and still drunk.

Oliver spent his morning thinking about all of this, throwing the small Quaffle at the wall as if that would make him feel better. He had already knocked down a painting and three potted plants.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Because the more he watched the team do drills and play against each other, the more he missed the security of his broom beneath him, the fierceness of the wind against his cheeks, and Maud's shouts telling Adrian and Luke to _focus._

And the more he thought about _that_ , the more Sarah's words ringed through his ears until he attempted a silencio charm, but of course, you couldn't just silence your brain.

A knock on his door surprised him. He quickly placed the ball on his desk and opened a couple of old leather-bound notebooks to fake the appearance that he was actually working and walked up to the door.

Briana's bright hazel eyes stared right back at him. "Morning Oliver. Can I come in?" she added when he didn't reply. Oliver mumbled something that sounded like baby-speech and moved aside, letting the petite redhead walk through. "Blimey, are you trying to decorate or simply destroy the places' vegetation?"

Oliver shrugged and closed the door shut. He stared at his ex-wife, confusion written all over his face. "What are you doing here?"  
Briana turned around and flashed him a kind smile. "I needed to talk to you. I tried your flat, but Elizabeth told me you had moved to Scotland," she brushed her bright red curls behind her ear and narrowed her eyes. "I mean, I heard the rumours that you had left Puddlemere, news travel fast in Quidditch, but I didn't believe them."

"Why not?"

Briana fixed her eyes on hi, as if dating him to contradict her. "Because it was the stupidest thing I had ever heard. Oliver, you love the ruddy game, I thought only a coma or lack of functioning joints would keep you from playing.'

He felt his shoulders tense and turned around so Briana couldn't see the expression on his face. He walked over to his desk and grabbed a notebook at random, showing it to her. "I'm enjoying this just as much."

She snorted and walked towards him. Briana pushed his notebooks aside and pushed him onto his chair. She took a seat on the corner of his desk. "Do you remember when we were married?"  
His cheeks blushed. "What part exactly?"

"When we talked about the future, after the war? And I said I didn't want children because it would be unfair for them to have parents who were constantly busy?" He nodded. It had surprised him, since he had always pictured Briana as a wonderful mother. And he had wanted to be a dad. "And you said we'd figure it out, that we could have it all?"

"I was wrong?"  
She shook her head and smiled. "You were right, I was the one being narrow minded. It would be hard, with both of our schedules, but certainly we could've managed if we had tried hard enough. Imagine my surprise when I find you making the same mistake as your dad."  
"Why does everyone say that?" he threw his arm in the air. "Sarah, you-"

"Because it's true," Briana fixed her eyes on him pinning him to his chair like a misbehaving child. "Your father had a quarter of the talent you did and he _knew_ that. There's a reason he never got to be first string and Olivier, you're twenty-three, you've been playing first string for two years and already you have one of the best statistics sets in the league," Oliver opened his mouth to protest but Briana cut him off. "I know you think you're average but the fact is, you're a brilliant keeper. You're a great strategist," she waved her hand over the stack of old notebooks, "but only because you're a player. I bet the reason the creative juices haven't come flowing is because you haven't been in the air for days. You always did your best thinking while on a broom."

"Why are you here Briana?" he said after a quiet moment. He had sworn he wouldn't be influenced by any more birds; he was his own man and he would make his own decisions and live with the consequences. Even if he began regretting them three days later.

"I just want you to be happy, and right now you're not."

He snorted. "Briana-"

"I'm getting married again," she thrust her left hand on his face. His eyes looked transfixed at the large diamond ring on her finger, at least three times the size of the one he had given her. "I wanted your blessing."

"Why?"

"Because you're still my oldest friend. And I'd like you to be there too."

Oliver smile and stood up to place a tender kiss on her cheek. "I hope he understands better than me how much you're worth."

Briana blushed. "We just hurried up into something neither of us was really ready for, but thank you," she brushed her hand against his cheek and jumped off the desk, walking towards the door. "And Oliver?"

"Mm?"

"I know it's hard to get through that stubborn head of yours, but I really hope you realize you're making a mistake before it's too late. Hopefully, before Friday's game. You deserve to play when Puddlemere wins."

The morning after Briana's visit was a repeat of the past three, except this time Oliver didn't get up at break of dawn. There was no point, he wasn't going to play. In fact, he didn't arrive at this ruddy office until close to ten, and even then he spent the rest of the morning and afternoon watching the Scottish team practicing and wanting more than anything else in the world to be down there flying on a broom.

"Elizabeth's going to be insufferable after this," he thought and then stared at the window. Elizabeth; hm, it didn't sound quite so foreign. His mouth broke into a grin and he began packing all his precious notebooks back into their box. He thanked his own laziness for not having unpacked three quarters of his things as he rushed down the stairs towards Coach Lyne's office. He didn't bother with knocking.

"Mr. Lyne," Lyne was reading the newspaper and eating a sandwich. He looked up.

"What can I do for you, m'boy?"

"I'm quitting."

Lyne choked and looked at his wristwatch. "You haven't even been here a week-"

"I know," Oliver said. "But I also know that I won't be a good addition to your team if I cannot play-"

"Oliver, lad, you know we have a full team-"

"Which is why I think you should hire a strategist who's older. Maybe once I retired, I'd consider the job, but right now I have other dreams to chase."

Lyne snorted. "Is this about a girl?"

Oliver shrugged. "Two actually. One's named Elizabeth, the other one is called Quidditch and it involves me playing it, not dreaming it. I'll owl you a resignation letter," he walked out of Lyne's office before the older man could argue. Oliver smiled as he grabbed the single box of things he had brought to his office, grabbed his old small quaffle and apparated to his apartment. It didn't take him long to put everything back in its place, and he enjoyed doing it. In fact, he was whistling and old Weird Sister's song as he placed everything in his old school trunk and apparated to is father's house.

"Oliver?" he heard his father call from the kitchen. Since his mum's death, his father had tried to learn to cook and had ended up almost burning the house down. He now only boiled water for tea and bought most of his meals. Oliver thought he needed to find someone else; his father was still too young to live the rest of his life alone. "Are you joining me for dinner? If I had known I would've ordered larger portions-"

"I'm not, but thanks. I'm going back to Britain."

His dad stared, "Going back to- Oliver, what is going on."

Oliver sighed and pushed a chair back so he could sit. He motioned with his dad for his dad to follow. "Dad, I know you've always wanted what's best for me and things had been hard since mum's gone," Oliver ignored the flash of pain on his father's eyes and continued, "but Quidditch, _playing_ Quidditch, is what I really want and it's what I'm going to do."

"Oliver are you-"

"I already quit Scotland, all I have to do is go back to Puddlemere and charm Maud into letting me play tomorrow."

"That's insane, Oliver, listen to me-"

Oliver raised his hand to stop him. "I've been listening to everyone except me, dad. I know you think I'm making a mistake, but it's my life," Oliver emphasized each word. He had never disagreed with his father before. Growing up, he had always seen him as an unsung hero, a Quidditch star who had chosen his family over his career and had been forgotten. In his eyes, that was courage: choosing what's right over what you want. But now he realized courage was chasing your dreams while still doing what's right. "You can't talk me out of this."

"And you think your coach will take you back on? Oliver, be sensible."

"I am, dad. I really am."

The next morning, Oliver arrived at Puddlemere's stadium at four. He hadn't wanted to face his flatmates, or Elizabeth. While a part of him ached to let her get over her glee at being right, he also knew she'd understand that there were things he needed to do first. She was a Slytherin, after all; ambition was something she'd be able to forgive.

So he snuck into the changing rooms and searched high and low for his old robes. Surprisingly, they hadn't been destroyed; they had just been thrown into the garbage. He applied a quick cleaning spell to them and put them on, relishing at his image in the mirror. Gryffindor red had suited him wonderfully, but navy blue might just be his best color.

He unpacked his broom and walked out to the pitch. The sun was beginning to come out; the team would be here in an hour. Oliver mounted his broom and kicked the floor, allowing a shout of pure pleasure to escape his lips as he felt the wind against his cheeks. He began to fly in circles, closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of his broom, secure, beneath him. He didn't notice anyone had walked in until two red flashes cut him off. He veered his broom to steady himself and looked down.

Owen was trying to disarm Adrian whose red beam bounced against the stands. Maud, uncompromised, kept sending her own jinxes at him. Oliver had to zig-zag his way down to the floor to avoid being hit. "Morning to you too-"

"Get out, Corey call security," Maud's eyes were narrowed into slits and even after Oliver landed she kept trying to stupefy him. Oliver cast a quick shield charm to protect himself.

"But-" the young seeker tried to protest, but Maud yelled his head off and he scurried away.

"You know, you're going to scare your star seeker to death like that," Oliver said and was rewarded with a new bout of spells. "Maud, can we talk about this the adult-way?"

"Stupefy!"

"Maud-"

"Confringo-"

"Maud-" Oliver took a step forward when a black beam hit him square in the jaw. He crumbled over, his wand falling on the floor as he tried to keep his breathing up to par. He heard everyone laugh as his nose expanded and lime-green bogeys with wings began clawing at his face. He tried slapping them away, but they only seemed to multiply, until Oliver was on the floor, his eyes closed as his own bogeys attacked him.

"Finite Incantatem," his breathing was hard and his whole body was shaking. His nostrils felt like someone had slammed raw twigs inside it. "Nice one, Pucey."

"Thank you coach."

"The rest of you, begin warming up – thirty rounds across the pitch, Go!" Oliver opened his eyes. Maud's training shoes were poking his shoulder. "As for you, get the hell out of my face," she stepped over him and he heard her footsteps getting further away. With effort, he pushed himself up on his elbows and stood up, shaking his head and cleaning his nose.

"Maud, Maud," he grabbed his coach by the arm and forced her to twirl around. Maud's hand collided against his cheek, leaving a red mark. "I suppose I deserved that."

"You deserve to have your own intestines fed to you inside a cow's stomach."

"It's usually a sheep's stomach and you put in the heart, liver and lungs."

Maud slapped him again. "I like that idea better."

"Maud," Oliver grabbed a hold of her tiny wrists and held her arms away from his body. He was already sore and hadn't even started practice. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, pretty boy," the older woman tried squirming out of his grip, but Oliver tightened his hold on her wrists.

"I'll let you go when you promise not to kick me in my privates anymore," he said, blocking a knee that had gotten too close for comfort. Maud huffed and said nothing. "I just want one more chance – even though I don't deserve it because I'm a right git and-"

"A sad excuse for a man."

"-that too. But I'm still a ruddy good keeper, and _you_ want a shiny new cup for your office, don't you Maud?"

She kicked the ground and Oliver let go of her hands. "I have a brilliant team, Oliver Wood, we don't need you to win us anything," she twisted her head to the side, just in time to see Thaddeus almost slipping from his broom. Her eyes narrowed. "Withers can always catch the snitch in the first five minutes."  
Oliver snorted. "Maud, you know you need me."

Her eyes flashed red and she was on him again, hitting and kicking every part of his body she could reach. Oliver tried blocking, but received a full well deserve punches. "Need you? You bloody arrogant toe-rag, of course we ruddy need you but you selfish prick left and now you waltz in like an innocent saint and ask to be let to play!"

"Alright, alright," he said just before Maud kneed him in the stomach. "I'll try out. Me against Thaddeus, if I win, I play. If I don't, I walk away."

Maud seemed to consider that thought before speaking. " _Fine,"_ she said with a smile that made Olvier shudder. "Brocklehurst and Twiddle – get your bats. Wilda, bring out three Quaffles. The rest of us, we play chaser."

"Wait, three Quaffles?" Maud's grin intensified.

"Scared Woody? I'll be playing too," Oliver swallowed and shook his head. He grabbed his broom from the floor and held on to it as his teammates prepared to go against him. Maud gave the beaters orders to hit the bludgers against the keeper only, while three chasers, one seeker and one ex-chaser had three Quaffles to get past him. "If you let a single one in Wood, you're out. Got it?"

He nodded and flew towards the post. The sun was up now and shinning in his eyes. He waited for Thaddeus to blow the whistle and began moving as a bludger came close to hitting him on the shoulder. Maud was passing one Quaffle to Wilda, while keeping another one tucked beneath her arm. Wilda passed to Adrian who passed to Luke. Corey had one Quaffle and seemed unsure what to do with it until Maud yelled at him and he shot. Oliver blocked that one easily, and let it fall to the ground. Maud cursed. One Quaffle down, two to go.

The four actual chasers were passing the two balls amongst themselves fast enough that they were only a blur. Formation names passed through Oliver's mind, but his body was just hovering somewhere close to the middle hoop, unsure of what they were planning on doing. He saw Wilda pass to Adrian through the corner of his eyes and dove to the right, just as Adrian passed back to Wilda. Oliver stretched his arm and almost went through the hoop, but blocked the ball.

He was grinning when the sight to his left almost gave him a heart attack. Maud was flying towards that hoop with all the speed of a snitch. Oliver did a sharp turn, hitting the tail of his broom and almost falling over, and raced to stop her. Maud flashed him a sneer before she shot. Oliver kicked his broom into full speed, zooming past a bludger. The Quaffle was speeding it was going to go in and everything would be lost-

He released his hands from the broom handle and kept himself in the air by tightening his knees against it. He propelled his body forward, the Quaffle brushed against his fingertips and he began a backwards flip.

He hit it away from the hoop seconds before it went in, his hand smashing against the hard metal and felt his bones break.

But he had no time to bother with them. A bludger was flying straight for his gut. Oliver ducked, pinning his body against the straight broom handle; the bludger brushed against the top of his head, sending shivers down his body.

He heard cheering intermingled with cursing. Thinking his heart was going to bounce out of his ribcage, he looked up. Evie was celebrating while Owen chased the two bludgers away from the team. Wilda was hugging Corey, and even Luke was grinning. Adrian still looked pissed, and Maud was swearing like a dragon catcher. "How did I do?"

She sent him a glare reminiscent of McGonagall's and a wide smirk tugged at his lips. "Bloody talented git."


	32. Chapter 31 -Part Two

Part II - Elizabeth

His eyes twinkled. "Yer, I heard all those rumours that he left too to but I reckon they're bogus – lad's been on a roll," he turned to cheer as Luke scored. I sat still, my head spinning. Oliver was playing. Oliver was back. My heart beat fast against my ribs, threatening to break a hole. I thanked the bloke and apparated to the outside of the stadium. The noise coming from in we deafening, and I could hear the commentator following the game. "Bradley to Pucey, Pucey back to Bardley- good bludger by beater Duer, Quaffle back in possession of Weeber-"

I run to the entrance and almost crashed against the metal bars. I tried the lock, but it was closed. I tried magic, but it repelled me, throwing me a couple of feet backwards. I stood up again and began banging on the door, screaming and shouting to be let in. A security wizard appeared, "Do you have a ticket miss?"

"Yes," I shouted and began fishing through my pockets, my handbag, even beneath my blouse. When I remembered I had left it at home, a wave of cold washed through me. How could I have been so careless? "But I do have one!"

The wizard shook his head and told me to keep away. I showed him my Witch Weekly badge, but he told me all the press members had been let in hours ago. "There has got to be something I can do!"

He shrugged. "No ticket, no entrance," he turned to leave when an idea occurred to me.

"Wait!" I took my wand out and focused, closing my eyes. Adrian had explained to me the basics after Daisy's death; I had just never tried it. It had to work. I concentrated hard on feeling happy, on feeling elated, seeing everyone again, kissing Oliver, getting my dream job – "Expecto patronum!" a silver fox erupted from my wand and twirled in the air, before landing in front of me. "Please, find Gwen and tell her to tell Mr. Deverill that I forgot my ticket – but I am at the door and I want, no need to get in," the fox seemed to nod before darting past the surprised wizard and disappearing inside the stadium.

The wait seemed to drag on forever. Puddlemere was really on a roll, Evie and Owen had all the other chasers dancing around their bludgers, while Adrian and the other two continued scoring. I tapped my foot, impatiently. Every time Oliver's name was called out felt a knot forming in my throat and making me queasy.

After the longest fifteen minutes of my life, another figure appeared. I craned my neck trying to see if it was Mr. Deverill. Surely he would let me in? but the figure was slimmer and taller and a whole lot more feminine.  
"Gwen," I called out, standing on my tip toes to get a better view. "Thank Merlin you came-"

"I'm Gwendolyn, you idiot," Amy's face came into sharp relief. I lowered my body as she got close enough for me to see the sneer in her lips.

"Gwen was meant to get that message."

"I intercepted it. No magic is allowed inside the stadium, didn't you know that? It could jeopardize the team's chance if they get accused of tampering," she gave me an ugly smirk. "But what do you care about the team?"

"I'm here, I just forgot my ticket," she rolled her eyes as if saying 'what do I care?' "You have to help me get in."

"I don't have to do _anything_ for you, Elizabeth," she turned around and began walking away.

"Please, you _have_ to –for Oliver."

She stopped and turned on her heels, marching right back to the edge of the gate. "Oliver? I don't reckon he'll want to see you, you dumped him, remember?"

"He came back."

"Because he wanted to play, not for you."

"Why do you care if I go in or not, then?" I shouted. "Wouldn't it be more satisfying to watch him reject me in front of the crowd than hear about it later?"  
Amy stared at me for a long moment, as if she were calculating. My blood was thumping in my head, as if someone was smashing it repeatedly against a stone wall. "You're right, it would be more satisfying," she called the security wizard to open the gate, flashing her own Puddlemere United badge as justification. I wanted to jump in glee and hug her, but I kept my composure as she led me inside the stadium.

It was like being inside one giant roaring beast. The floor was shaking with the weight of the people as the jumped and cheered. I just hope I wasn't too late – I wanted to see them win this damned thing. Amy stopped me at the edge of the stadium. We were on one of the lower levels and I had to crane my neck to see the action. Wilda had the Quaffle and was passing it to Luke but it got intercepted. The Harriers chaser, clad in Slytherin red, darted forward, almost kicking Adrian off of his broom before throwing the Quaffle at the right hoop. My throat closed as Oliver dived from the centre hoop to catch it. He stumbled in the air, almost going through the hoop and passed the Quaffle back to Wilda.

"Can we go any higher?" I asked Amy. She shook her head.

"I need to be close by in case something happens. Besides," she added with a nasty grin, "you don't have your ticket so don't be greedy."

I decided not to argue with that and contented myself with watching Adrian score. "Puddlemere one hundred and twenty – Heidelberg ninety!"

"When did Oliver come back?" I asked her over the roar of the crowd. The people right above us were jumping and down; dust was falling on my hair and I wondered if the magic would hold.

"He was here before practice started, dressed up in his gear. I don't know where he got it from since he had to surrender it to Deverill," she replied with a shrug, her eyes following Owen as he got hit by a bludger. Owen almost dropped his bat and Evie hit a bludger against the opposite beater but missed. "Owen and Evie had to keep Maud and Adrian from throwing him an unforgivable curse. Adrian shot him a nice bat-bogey hex, though."

I snickered. Typical Slytherin behavior: revenge. "Then Oliver flew down, asked to be allowed to play. You can imagine how _that_ went. Maud flat out refused and ignored him until he jinxed the Quaffles."

"He did that?"

"Must've learned a trick or two hanging out with you Slytherins. In any case, it worked, because Maud gave him a chance to prove himself. The rest," she waved her hand as Oliver made another catch, "is history."

I wanted to ask her more question –what had he said? Had Adrian managed any other hexing? Why had nobody bothered to let me know- but then the most beautiful words I've ever heard assaulted my ears. "And Withers seen the snitch, he's diving for it lad and lasses! Dittmars trailing behind, girl can't catch a break today, first that broken elbow ten minutes into the game… and they are down diving, it looks like they are going to crash against the ground, Dittmar did in fact and Withers catches the snitch – PUDDLEMERE WINS TWO-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TO ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY!"

The celebrating cheers were about as quiet as en erupting volcano. I was certain the stadium _was_ going to crumble as Puddlemere's anthem began blaring from the speakers. Amy threw me one quick sneer before apparating. I cursed as loud as I could, and yet I couldn't hear myself. I tried apparating to the main box, where the team would be going to receive their cup but was thrown backwards by the sheer force of the counter-hex.

I stood back up and tried to block the sound of cheering out. My eyes wandered to the large screen which was showing the team ascending the stairs (amidst a lot of cheering of their own) to receive their well-deserved cup. The image even showed Amy hugging Oliver and my blood boiled.

I should be there, dammit.

I could always go home and wait for them there… but there was a sense of urgency. Maybe I just read too many romances growing up and never quite let go of the idea of being my own heroine, rushing up to the prince and –

Bingo!

I had a faint idea of where the locker rooms would be situated since most stadiums were built the same way. I fished my Witch Weekly badge out of my pocket and began racing through the stands. Wilda was raising the cup while the rest of the team congregated around them. I saw a few stairs that would lead me to the pitch and undid the lock with my wand. At least that was easy. I sprinted down the stairs and made a left, immediately hitting a large human wall.

"I'm sorry lass, only media and V.I.P. passes can get through-" I flashed him my new shiny badge. He eyed me up and down with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

"It's legit, give it a go," I pushed it in front of his face but he just raised his hands and let me through. I waited until I was out of sight to punch the air. Puddlemere was leaving the main box with Maud carrying the cup; they'd be heading this way, where reporters from all major magazines and newspapers would be ready to fire them questions. And it was here that I was going to ambush them.

There was an almost solid wall of human bodies blocking my view from where the team was going to walk in just moments. I took in a deep breath, secured my hair and began elbowing my way through. I stepped on many feet, almost lost my sandals, and got cursed at far more times than I could remember. I received a couple of elbows to my ribs, and they stung, but I finally made it to the front as Puddlemere descended.

"Wilda, Wilda, what does it feel like to have scored the final goal in the match?"

"Madam Capulet, what does it feel like have led the team to their first EuroCup in two-hundred years?"

"Oliver, Oliver, what were those rumours about you quitting? Was it just a ploy to sell more tickets?"

I rolled my eyes. Adrian and Luke had picked up on that last question and were having way too much fun answering me. "Oliver's a sodding arse, but all those bludgers to the head finally made him see the light so to speak."

Everywhere around me questions kept being fired. Evie and Owen were questioned about the current status of their relationship ('On, definitely on'), Adrian was asked whether it was true he was taken ('Thank Merlin') and when Maud was planning on retiring ('When I grow old'). They were nearing the entrance of the locker rooms, where I would have no more access to them until after they showered. Oliver walked past me, not seeing me. He was sporting the most gorgeous smile I had ever seen on his lips and I doubted.

" _Oh, for Merlin's sake, where is that infamous Gryffindor courage?"_ I remembered Willow's voice; it seemed like a lifetime ago and I am no Gryffindor, but dammit if there is ever a time for unthought-of of stupidity-

"OI WOOD!" I shouted, pushing a large bloke aside to get closer. He tried to push me back but I fought against him and managed to get three feet away. "What does it feel like to hear the words I told you so?

I watched his shoulders tense and his body turn around in slow motion; his mouth was open and I could almost imagine the retort he had planned. It just happened that it died before he could get it out. His mouth hung open, but I couldn't get a good view at his overall expression since the large bloke chose that precise moment to push me to the side; I tripped and fell while the stupid git asked Oliver some question I didn't here.

I was not done cursing my luck inside my head when a hand appeared in front of me. "I suppose it depends on who is the person doing the telling," the voice attached to the hand spoke why a heavily sexy Scottish accent. I grinned and allowed him to help me up. Oliver placed a hand on my waist to steady me. Behind me I could feel the pressure of bodies pushing against me.

"What if it is a very annoying British girl?"

Oliver smirked and pushed some of my hair back from my face. My bun had long come undone. "She'd have to be the most annoying British girl, because I really hate to be proven wrong."

I arched an eyebrow. "You can't have it all, can you?"

"Actually. I believe you can," a part of my brain knew that the random flashes of light my eyes kept seeing form the periphery were photographs being taken. I knew that the constant pushing and pulling was a large mass of people trying to get close enough to hear. And I also knew that all that cat-calling was Adrian's and Luke's –possibly even Evie's and Owen's; but in reality, all I was really conscious about was Oliver, the way his brown eyes looked at me and the feel of his hand on my waist. "I realized this morning that I have been behaving like a git."

"Took twenty-three years, could've been a lot worse," I said with a shrug and a smile that was hurting my cheeks.

Oliver chuckled. "It just dawned on me, what's the point of doing something you won't like if you don't even have the people that matter around you to make it better?"

"That's funny, I realized today that there is no point in getting what you want if you don't have anyone to share it with," I scooted closer to Oliver to wrap my arm around his torso. He smelled of sweat and grass and for once I didn't care.

"I'm sorry?"

"For being a git?" I leaned in, bringing our faces close enough for me to brush my lips against his.

"For not listening to you, Lisa," he said and I jumped backwards.

"You called me Lisa?"

He shrugged and placed his hand on the back of my neck, leaning in to nibble at my low lip. I was too stunned to react. "It's your name isn't it? Well, nickname."

"Yeah, I just never thought I'd hear you call me anything other than Sarah-"

"And the occasional b-word."

I slapped him on the shoulder and he thrust his lips fully against mine. I closed my eyes, ignoring the dramatic increasing in camera flashes and cat-calls. "You know," I said, pulling back to get some air. "Public mortification just isn't the same without the Weasley twins proclaiming your heterosexuality."

"Yes, not even knowing your picture may be front cover of the Daily Prophet tomorrow beats them."

Someone yanked Oliver away from my grip. I looked up to see a laughing Adrian. "Not to be a party-pooper," I snorted, letting go of Oliver's robes. "But you lot have given the press enough for a month's worth of gossip and frankly Wood, you're starting to smell. I thought you had better standards than that, Montieth."

"At least I don't hide behind chocolate frogs," Adrian's cheeks reddened and I laughed.

Oliver was already being pulled away by Luke, Maud was staring at them laughing her head off. "See you at home?"

My cheeks were hurting from smiling too much. "Yes, see you at home."

I turned around to escape the incoming waterfall of questions. I pushed and elbowed my way out of the tight circle of reporters, refusing to answer any questions, until I got out of the stadium. I apparated home and sunk on the sofa, feeling giddy. "I thought you'd never make it out of there alive."

"I could've used some help, I almost got my nose broken," I replied. Turning around to see Gwen pouring three glasses full of elf wine. Willow grabbed hers. I stood up and grabbed mine.

"I just wanted to thank you for winning me another round of thirty galleons," Gwen said, raising her glass in a toast. "Your courting has made me significantly wealthier."

"You're welcome. Where is _your_ other half?" I asked Willow. She shrugged and finished her glass in one gulp.

"Picking Ryan up from his parents'. He's been a lot more docile after we almost broke up and actually understands the meaning of 'I need a drink with my girlfriends," we all toasted to that. "Here's to getting what you want," Willow said sending each one of us a significant look. Gwen and I shared a mischievous grin.

"And having those you love there to share it with."


	33. Epilogue

Epilogue – Four years later

"This dress makes me look fat."

Oliver chuckled and stood up. Elizabeth was staring at her reflection in the mirror, turning sideways to examine her bum. He thought she looked beautiful, clad in the silk floor-length lavender dress, but three years of marriage had taught him that no amount of truth was ever going to be helpful in this situation. "It's not fat," he said, placing his arms over her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. "It's pregnant, there's a difference."

He watched her pout in the mirror. "It's still fat."

Oliver shook his head and lowered his hands towards the growing bulge in her stomach. He still couldn't believe there was life growing in there, to him it looked tiny and fragile. "You look beautiful."

"You just say that because you don't me snapping at you."

He chuckled, kissed her and walked away, arranging his dress shirt. "Lisa, love, you'll snap at me regardless."

There was knocking on the door and a second later Francis walked in. He looked as much of a penguin as Oliver felt in his black dress robes and lavender bowtie that clashed horribly with Oliver's hair, but looked good with Francis' blond locks. "Are you two ready?"

"Relax, your little sister isn't going to get married without you there," Elizabeth said. She squeezed Oliver's upper arm as she walked past him and her cousin. "Speaking of whom, I should probably go see how she's doing. Make sure she doesn't get cold feet or anything."

Oliver snorted when his wife was out of the room. "I can't believe this is happening," Francis said, plopping on the bed. Gwen and Adrian had chosen to have their wedding out in the country, and had booked a muggle hotel for everyone to stay. Poor concierges were being hit with two confounding charms every hour to keep them from noticing that the ice-frog sculptures were actually croaking. "My little sister, getting married. She won't be… she'll be a woman tonight," Francis shivered.

Oliver thought it was probably best not to tell him that Gwen had probably already reached that milestone; it might just tear the older brother down. "It'll be fine. Adrian is a nice bloke, for a Slytherin."

Francis buried his head in between his knees. "I just never thought I'd be the one to give her away; it should've been _dad_ and-" Oliver placed a hand on his old friend and smiled.

"Your dad would be proud though, you've looked after her all this time. And they'll be here today, in spirit," he had felt the same on his own wedding day. He hadn't missed his mum as much as he had in the hours before he waited for his bride to walk down the aisle. At least Elizabeth had both Armand and William to walk her down. Adrian had been pacified of missing that job by having the Best Man honor. Even so, she had told Oliver days after that it was a pity her dad hadn't lived long enough to see his only daughter get married. In the last year of his life, Mr. Montieth had come around to accept their relationship and begin rebuilding one with his family as they visited him at St. Mungo's.

"Now let's go or your little sister will chop our heads off if we're late." We made our way out of the room and towards the lobby. Francis waved goodbye as he went to find Gwen and the rest of the bridesmaids and I walked towards were Adrian was. He didn't knock on the room and walked in. Adrian was adjusting his own bowtie while Corey threw a pillow up in the air and caught it again. Flint was sitting on a chair, drinking. "I'm surprise you're not hitting the bottle, Pucey."

He caught the groom's grinning reflection before he turned around and clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "Can't be drunk on me own wedding, bride will have my head. And speaking of that," Adrian looked at his left hand where his wristwatch normally was, "I reckon we should get going or this wedding will be groom-less."

Oliver had to admit that Gwen had picked a beautiful place for their wedding. About two hundred guests were already seated on wooden benches adorned with garlands of white and lavender flowers. Unlike their wedding, Gwen and Adrian had chosen to go for a neutral color. Elizabeth had refused any crimson red or navy blue, and they had settled for gold and silver, to still represent their houses.

On the dais, two white curtains framed two large oak trees which Oliver had seen magically appear that morning. They resembled a large open window with a view to the rest of the countryside. Candles lit the steps that led to the place right beneath where the curtains met where the couple would soon be wed. night was falling slowly as it did in summer, but someone had charmed firefly's to hover over the crowd. Oliver would've loved to have the same effect on their wedding, but they had chosen a winter wedding instead of a summer. Instead of fireflies and the open sky, their wedding had included charmed pixies over a barn's ceiling and falling snow.

He followed the groom through the back, and took his place beside him as the Best Man with Flint and Corey behind them. Corey was sending Daniel covert kisses. On the front row on the bride's side were William and Armand and their respective partners. Elena, William's daughter, was the flower girl. Willow was standing to the side, nursing her newborn boy who had inherited both of his parents' temper. Oliver hoped his kid would have his mother's eyes – and his patience.

Music started and Adrian tensed. Oliver patted him on the shoulder and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. All the guests stood up as a cute girl with dark brown curls walked down the aisle, throwing lavender petals in the air. Ryan, Willow and Flint's son, was trailing behind her, more interested in looking around him than throwing the petals from his basket.

Behind her came Elizabeth, and Oliver's breath hitched even though he had seen how beautiful his wife looked that day. Gwen had chosen for her bridesmaids a floor-length lilac dress in a material that fluttered like water while they walked. Her shoulders were left bare, with only a few stray dark curls falling from her bun. She send him a coy smile as she took her place on the same step as him on the dais. Oliver's eyes flew to her left hand which was holding a small bouquet of lavenders and his heart grew at the sight of her wedding band.

The two other bridesmaids, friends from Gwen's time at Hogwarts, followed Elizabeth. Then the music changed and the bride, escorted by her brother walked in. There was a collective gasp as they glided down the aisle, Francis looking as if he had just finished crying. Gwen had eyes only for her future husband; she walked down with her hair held high, her bouquet of white flowers held against her breast. Francis kissed her cheek and sent Adrian a warning glare, but Oliver doubted his friend had noticed, as his eyes were also glued on his young bride.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the wizard presiding over the ceremony said. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of-"

Oliver's mind wandered, remembering the day he had tied the knot. The night before, Adrian, Luke and Owen had made sure he drank enough firewhiskey to get a small dragon drunk. He had woken up on the day of with the biggest headaches of his life, not to mention with a stomach as queasy as Elizabeth's attempts at making soup from scratch. Thankfully, a lot of water and anti-hangover potions later he'd been able to wash up enough to look presentable.

"Do you, Adrian Octavio take, take Gwendolyn Adriana to be your faithfully wedded wife…"

His eyes locked with Elizabeth who was short of tapping her foot impatiently; he could see small ruffles at the bottom of her dress. He sent her a wink and she returned it with a roll of her eyes. He coughed to conceal a chuckle.

"And do you, Gwendolyn Adriana take Adrian Octavio to be your faithfully wedded husband…"

Willow's baby released an ear-piercing scream and Oliver shuddered, thanking the heavens above that he still had four months before he had to deal with screaming newborns..

"…then I declare you bonded for life," the wizard said, lifting his wand and waving it over the newlywed's head and they were enveloped in silver stars, spiraling down from the wand to intertwine with their hands , wrapping around their bodies as if creating a knot of pure light. Everyone stood up to clap and cheer and Adrian lifted Gwen's face to his own and kissed his wife.

The chairs disappeared after the bride and groom had raced down the aisle. Over walked over to his wife and offered her his arm, they were followed by the rest of the bridal party. "I had to say," he said as they walked towards a table. Oliver nicked a champagne glass from a wandering waiter, earning himself a glare from his pregnant wife. "If somebody had told me when I first signed up to Puddlemere United that I would end up as Adrian Pucey's best man on his wedding ,I would've told them to get checked." Francis was waving at them.

"Yes well, if someone had told me I would end up happily married to that Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindor captain _I_ would've probably hexed them," Oliver chuckled.

"And I would've hexed myself if anyone had told me my little sister would end up married to a ruddy Slytherin," Francis said before gulping his drink in one.

Gwen popped up behind her brother, Adrian was chatting with Willow and Flint one step behind her. "But all of that came to happen, and I won every single bet. Even the one where I wasn't going to end up eloping to Vegas with a love child. Ohh, alcohol," she squeezed past everyone and almost run down a waiter.

Elizabeth exchanged a wry glance with Francis. "She's your sister."

"She's your sister," both of them turned at once to the side, where the groom had just popped into the conversation.

"What'd I miss?"

"She's your wife."

Adrian's face was illuminated by a large, sloppy grin. "Thank Merlin."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through Olvier's, leading him towards the refreshment table, muttering about her inability to drink alcohol. "Elizabeth! Oliver!" they both turned around, Elizabeth doing a poor job of hiding her cursing. Kathryn Wotton, Elizabeth's old boss, was waving at them from a nearby table, her large stomach looking prominent in her bright red dress.. Ethan Sweeting was trying to control her and keep her from yelling any louder.

Oliver waved at them and steered his wife back towards the refreshment table. There was still something innately awkward about his ex-girlfriend having eloped with his wife's ex-boyfriend. "If she keeps hinting that maybe our kids will go to Hogwarts together and fall in love, it really makes me grateful I'm no longer her assistant."

Oliver choked. "She said that?"

Elizabeth shrugged and grabbed a glass of orange juice. "She mentioned it to me last week during the promotional event for the book." Like Miranda Winterstorm had predicted, Elizabeth's column about stories of women involved in the war had gained a large audience. They had already published two volumes full of collected stories, and although Elizabeth still wrote a monthly column for Witch Weekly the exposure had given her the opportunity to branch out as an independent writer and last week she had released her first fictional book. "It is rather odd though, isn't it? How everything just seemed to have fallen in place."

A slow music began playing. Gwendolyn and Adrian were preparing for their first dance as husband and wife. Oliver placed a hand through his wife's waist and brought her close to give her a small kiss on the lips. "I'll take this odd reality over any that doesn't have you in it, any time."

She smiled and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the dance floor. Dancing with a pregnant Elizabeth required some getting used to; Oliver was paranoid that he'd squeeze her too hard and hurt her, or his child. A goofy smile tugged at his lips as the thought of his child. Quidditch, Elizabeth, and his future kid – Oliver couldn't imagine a happier man on Earth that day, expect perhaps the new groom who had yet t go through the woes of marriage.

Then again, Oliver had no doubt that him and Gwen would be just as happy as he was. They had everything they wanted, after all.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, there you have it. Completed. A year ago I had fully intended on editing each chapter before uploading it to the tune of 1 to 2 a month. Alas, life got in the way and I didn't get a chance to review and edit beyond the first few chapters. But I do hate to read a story only to find it never gets updated. Even though I am more than certain there are countless typos that have gone unedited, I also need to recognise that I won't get the opportunity to work on this in the future. So completed is better than perfect is my new motto.

A billion thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this. This story is my baby and believe it or not, I have had Elizabeth in my head since high school. She's a very good friend of mine by now, and I've found her advise (particularly when it comes to blokes or shoes) to always be a sound one.

If you enjoyed it, please review :)


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